Camelot Beach
by Oaktown fangirl
Summary: AU-Inspired by an idea by thy3truth iswon. Part reframing of Series 2 events, part homage to the 60's Beach Party movies, 100% summer fluff. I'm not an expert on the 60's or surfing, but I love the Beach Party movies for the silly, retro fun that they are, and try to capture that spirit.
1. Welcome to Camelot Beach

_Going down to the beach,_

_Yeah, we're all going down to the beach,_

_So grab your board, bring your girl,_

_Cuz we're all going down,_

_To Camelot Beach._

_Going down to the beach,_

_Yeah, powdered sand, moonlit night,_

_Surf is high, so grab your girl,_

_Cuz we're all going down,_

_To Camelot Beach._

_Yeah, bring your board,_

_Yeah, bring your girl,_

_Cuz we're all going down, _

_To Camelot Beach._

The song was stuck in her head again. No matter how many other tunes she tried to hum, her brain would not be distracted. Still, it was going to be a great day. The sun was out. The surf was up. Gwen took her last run of the morning, and then rode her board into shore. Yep, it was going to be a great day.

It was finally here-summer vacation! Gwen had been looking forward to this day for weeks. She could stash her books away for the summer, and hit the beach. Actually, Gwen could hit the beach everyday, seeing as she lived at the beach ... at the Camelot Beach Board and Surf Shop to be exact. Well, not at the Surf Shop exactly, above it. Gwen lived in the small apartment above the surf shop. Her father left her the surf shop when he died the previous year. Gwen missed him like crazy. But now after more than a year had passed, she was finally allowing herself to look forward to things again-and she was certainly looking forward to summer. She ran the surf shop on weekends throughout the year, while studying at Camelot Beach Junior College, in town, near the beach. But spring break and summer were high season in Camelot Beach. Young people came from all over to ride the waves, soak up the sun, and if they were lucky, to find romance.

Summer romance was the furthest thing from Gwen's mind though. For high season meant lots of hard work for Gwen. She rose early to give surf lessons in the morning before the beach got crowded. At 11:00, she opened the shop, renting and selling the best boards on Camelot Beach, and renting beach chairs, flippers, wetsuits, you name it, to those who flocked to the beach this time of year. In the evening, she picked up shifts waiting tables at Gaius' Snack Shack, a Camelot Beach institution. Gaius' had the best burgers and fries around, and in the summer, bands dropped by to play on the makeshift stage. She'd known Gaius pretty much her entire life. He'd been a friend of her father, and she grew up hanging out at the Snack Shack, waiting tables as soon as she was old enough. She actually looked forward to working shifts at the Snack Shack, ever since Gaius' nephew Merlin came to stay. She and Merlin were the very definition of fast friends.

Gwen stashed her board at the side of the shop. It was her special board, handcrafted by her dad-two lavender stripes ran down the middle, over them he'd stenciled an elaborate floral design that was better suited to an eight year old. Now she could choose any board in the shop, but she wouldn't start the summer on any other board-it had to be that one, her special board—her lucky board.

She took the back stairs to her apartment two at a time. Switching on the transistor radio, turning the knob until she found a station with music instead of ads. _Camelot Beach_, again. No escaping it. It was number one with a bullet. She sang along with it as she took a quick shower. Then she went to dress for the day. She spent half her summer in one of the half a dozen swimsuits and two-pieces she owned, but not when she was working in the shop. She picked out her favorite blue denim pedal pushers, and a pink striped sleeveless button front shirt. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail, slicking down the flyaway curls with a healthy slather of pomade. Pulling on her Keds, without unlacing them, she was ready to open the shop.

This time she took the front steps that led directly from her apartment into the shop. No need to turn on lights, she went by rote to the big roll-up door. Unlatching it, she then pulled the chain until the creaking, groaning door rose. When it was all the way up, she secured the chain. Morning sunlight poured in and she looked out on Camelot Beach.

* * *

Arthur put the last suitcase in the trunk of his candy-apple red Thunderbird convertible.

"Come on, Leon. Time to hit the road."

"But there's no room for my board," Leon whined.

"We'll rent some when we get there," Arthur replied with more than a hint of impatience. His father was dispatching him to Camelot Beach, to decide whether it would be a good site for another Pendragon coastal resort. Arthur planned to go to Camelot Beach, spend a day or two, and then head up the coast to Pendragon's Albion Coastal Resort to be pampered by the minions who owed their jobs to his father, Uther Pendragon. The sooner they got started, the sooner they'd get to Albion.

"We won't find one, half as good as my Betsy," Leon was saying.

"Betsy?" Arthur asked, his voice dripping with derision. "You named your board, Betsy?"

"Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Betsy lived next door the year I got the board. She was the prettiest girl in the neighborhood. Later that summer, her family moved east. I never saw her again," here Leon showed real emotion, evoking a puzzled, yet disgusted look from Arthur. Leon went on, "Anyway, the name stuck ... after all, you can go around changing the name of your board."

Puzzling over his friend's idiosyncrasies, Arthur scratched his perfectly manicured lawn of blond locks ... perfectly manicured except for a lock that constantly fell in his eyes. His perfectly shorn hair, matched the rest of him-short sleeve plaid cotton shirt, long shorts, tennis shoes-no socks, casual but not messy. He slammed the truck shut and slid behind the wheel waiting for Leon to join him. By contrast, Leon was everything that Arthur was not. Leon was extra-tall, long-limbed, and gangly. From now until the time they had to go back school in the fall, he would only be seen in board shorts, a t-shirt, and that infernal goofy hat. He wore a hat that Arthur thought was ridiculous; its only redeeming quality was that it hid Leon's dreadful haircut.

Leon hurdled into the passenger seat without opening the car door. "Camelot Beach, here we come," he said, smiling broadly.

Arthur switched on the car radio. _It's the number one hit that's shaking up the summer. That's right, it's Camelot Beach_ ... the radio intoned as Arthur gunned the engine and peeled out.

* * *

Gwen was neither surprised nor disappointed when the first person to visit the surf shop on the first day of summer was Merlin. He showed up at the shop carrying a brown paper lunch bag, from which delicious smells emanated.

"Good morning Merlin."

"Morning Gwen," he called through the open front window of the shop. Coming in, he placed the bag on the counter in front of her. "Gaius sent you these."

"Oooo, I didn't want to hope," she said excitedly, looking inside the bag, "but he remembered!"

"Remembered what? They're just doughnuts" Merlin asked, dumbfounded by her obvious excitement over some doughnuts.

She took one out and took a big bite. When she'd chewed and swallowed it, she said, "That's where you're wrong. They're not just doughnuts, they're Gaius' first day of summer doughnuts-a Camelot Beach tradition, well at least, a Gaius, Tom and Gwen tradition." She took another bite, and another, and in a moment the doughnut was gone. "How does he do it, Merlin?"

Merlin looked flustered. "Uh, dough and a hot fryer, I think," he stammered, the concept of a rhetorical question temporarily lost on him.

Gwen hardly noticed as she reached for another doughnut (a woman could work up quite an appetite surfing). "Where does he find the time to cook like this, run the Snack Shack, and look after you?"

"Oh," Merlin finally understanding her meaning. "What do you mean 'look after me'? He doesn't have to look after me. I'm not a puppy, you know."

"Sorry Merlin. I didn't mean it that way," Gwen started backpedalling. "I just meant for a lifelong bachelor like Gaius to suddenly have a teenager living with him, must be a big change, if you know what I mean."

Gwen looked at him. This morning, he was wearing a blue and red striped t-shirt, and Levis dungarees. And even though he said he wasn't a puppy, he reminded her of one sometimes, all big ears, and big eyes. Merlin was cute as could be. When he arrived last summer from the heartland, he was so sweet and innocent. In some ways, he still was. But, he'd also learned a lot from his hipster uncle, Gaius. And Gwen thought he'd grown up a lot in a short amount of time. Still, he was different from the other boys at Camelot Beach, but how and why, she just couldn't put her finger on it.

They stood looking at each other. Gwen polished off her second doughnut, and licked her fingers. "I'll put these away for later," she said, stashing the bag behind the counter.

"Well, I'd better get back," Merlin said, moving toward the door. "So much to do before we open." He stopped and looked back at her, "See you tonight?"

"I'll be there to work the dinner shift," she smiled, waved, and watched Merlin head toward the Snack Shack next door.

* * *

Even though he drove pretty fast, Arthur would never say that they made good time getting to Camelot Beach. They traveled over the hills, and then took the coast highway. As always when traveling with Leon, they made numerous stops along the way to eat. First, Leon needed a mid-morning snack; then lunch; then a bathroom break; then (incredibly annoying to Arthur) an afternoon snack.

It was nearly 6:00 by the time they reached Camelot Beach. Arthur's father had described it as a colorful enclave that would benefit from development. Arthur called it a hole in the wall town, with nowhere decent to stay, except the summer boarding houses that appealed to surfers.

Arthur pulled up to the street address of Gaius' boarding house. He and Leon unfolded from the car ride and made their way to the door. Arthur knocked. Nothing. He knocked again. Still nothing. With a jerk of his head, he indicated that they should follow the noise around to the beach side of the building. A rickety boardwalk led them along the side of the building. When they got to the back, the place was open for business. Gaius' boarding house was also a restaurant called the Snack Shack, which looked out on Camelot Beach.

"This is cool," enthused Leon. "A place to stay _and_ food."

Arthur was less than enthusiastic. But he and Leon went inside in search of the owner. It was early and the place was only half full. Leon plopped himself down at a table and took up a menu, ready to eat again. Arthur rolled his eyes and headed toward the counter. "Perhaps, we should wait and find out if they have any rooms available before you make yourself comfortable," he called to Leon over his shoulder.

"We do," an old beatnik appeared at the counter.

"We need a place for a couple of nights," Arthur told him.

Gaius looked him up and down, considering, "We rent a week at a time," he said. "Cash," and then "in advance."

Arthur took out his wallet and handed over two bills. The old beatnik raised an eyebrow and waited. Arthur handed over yet another bill. "M'name's Gaius," the old guy said as he pocketed the bills. "And you are?"

"Art..." Arthur stumbled over his own name. "Art Penn," he said, catching his near mistake. This business of being incognito wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. But his father had warned him that if people knew his real reason for being there, he'd get nothing but a cold shoulder.

Gaius' face looked lined and weathered from years of sun and sea. His gray hair looked unruly and unkept; he wore the black turtleneck favored by beatniks; only his thick-soled leather sandals seemed to belong at the beach. "Merlin," he called toward the kitchen, "bring the key to Room 3, and show these boys the way."

"Room 3? Surely that was enough money for two rooms?" Arthur asked plaintively.

The old man laughed. "This time of year? You're lucky we have one room left. It does have two beds though, and I'll throw in breakfast each day," he added with a wicked smile.

A gangly teen in a striped t-shirt bounded through the swinging doors that led to the Snack Shack kitchen, bringing the key with him. "This way," he said indicating a side door. Arthur tapped Leon on the shoulder, and they followed Merlin through the door. It led to an outdoor stairway. "Everyone uses this entrance," Merlin told them. "It's closest to the beach. You can stash your boards down here," he said, pointing to a space under the stairs. There were already a number of surfboards stashed there.

"Actually, we need to rent boards..." Arthur began.

Merlin cut in. "Then you have to go to Gwen's."

"Gwen's?"

"Well, Camelot Beach Board and Surf Shop, next door. Gwen runs it. She has the best boards for miles around. She'll fix you up," Merlin went on.

At the top of the stairs, they turned right to Room 3. It was right above the front of the Snack Shack; it was small, with two of the narrowest beds Arthur had ever seen, a couple of rickety tables and dressers, but it had a window looking out on the beach. "Bathroom's down the hall," Merlin added as Arthur and Leon surveyed the room.

"Great. Merlin, isn't it?"

"Yes?" Merlin eyed Arthur speculatively.

Arthur reached in his pocket and pulled out his car keys. "Could you bring up our bags? It's the red Thunderbird out front. You can't miss it."

Merlin laughed, "Do we look like a full service hotel?"

Arthur once again produced a bill from his wallet and waved it in front of Merlin, "Will this make it worth your while?"

Without hesitation, Merlin snatched the bill and car keys from Arthur. "Back in a flash."

* * *

By the time she arrived for her shift at the Snack Shack, Gwen had changed into a t-shirt that she didn't care if she got grease from fries, or catsup or mustard on; braided her ponytail, the better to keep errant hairs out of the burgers; and put on a pair of ugly but comfortable tennis shoes with white ankle socks. She went through to the locker room, grabbed her apron, and headed to table 2 to take an order.

Just then, her friend Morgana entered. She waited by the door and waved at Gwen, signaling to her to come over. Gwen waved back, stopped by the counter to turn her order in, and then went to greet Morgana.

"Hi Gwen." Morgana, as always, looked lovely. She had the kind of radiant complexion that anyone would envy, at least Gwen always thought so. She was always perfectly dressed, again, from Gwen's perspective. Gwen could never imagine Morgana in a greasy t-shirt and pedal pushers. Right now, she was wearing a sweet green gingham top that buttoned down the back, matching green stretch pants, and gorgeous yellow sandals. Gwen thought that she and Morgana were the most unlikely friends, but they had hit it off ever since the day Morgana "escaped" from the tony equestrian camp in the canyon that paralleled Camelot Beach, and made her way to the Snack Shack for a burger and milkshake. That was five summers ago. She returned each year. This summer she was working at the camp, and no longer had to make up excuses for her absences. When she returned the previous week, Gwen was thrilled to see her again. They were unlikely friends because Morgana came from money; Gwen had none. Gwen was handy at everything; Morgana had few practical skills. But mostly they were unlikely friends because Morgana was a Pendragon, though not by birth. Uther Pendragon was her guardian; she had grown up as one of his own.

"Sorry, I was hoping to catch you before your shift started." Morgana's voice was suitably lyrical, in keeping with all of her other physical virtues.

"Why? What's up?"

"Well," Morgana began, acting a bit coy. "It's just ... I have a date tonight, and I wondered if you had a chance to hem my green dress."

"Yeah, it's done. Here," Gwen said hiking up her short apron, reaching into the pocket of her pants, to retrieve her keys. "Take my keys, it's in my closet beside my ... oh, never mind." Turning to Merlin, who was at the counter dropping off an order of his own, "Merlin, can you cover my tables for a minute? I'll be right back ... I promise."

"Okay, but hurry back okay. Things are picking up."

Gwen hurried off with Morgana, leaving Merlin to cover.

* * *

After the long drive (courtesy of Leon's appetite), Arthur thought the only sensible thing to do was to eat dinner at Gaius', and then have an early night. So they headed downstairs to the Snack Shack. To Arthur's way of thinking, Camelot Beach was a sleepy little town with little to offer. Even so, the Snack Shack was teeming, especially for a Monday night. There were two empty stools at the counter, and a table toward the corner, just being cleared. Arthur and Leon made a beeline for the table, practically pushing a couple of slow-moving surfers out of the way. Only now did Arthur really notice the place. It was a typical beach dive ... stained plank floors, walls adorned with surfboards and Hawaiian shirts, fishing nets hung from the ceiling. He'd visited dozens of them with his dad, when they went on scouting trips looking for communities ripe for development by Pendragon Resorts.

Everything about Gaius' was worn ... comfortable too, Arthur thought. Gaius himself worked the counter. Serving those seated there, plus pouring sodas, and mixing shakes and cherry or vanilla Cokes. The kid, Merlin, was the only waiter for what seemed like a lot of tables for one waiter. The tables were filled, and the place was alive with conversation and the sound of the radio in the background.

Merlin scurried over to them to take their order, "What'll you have?"

Leon could barely wait, "A double cheese burger, large fries, and ... what's in a Neapolitan shake?"

"Um, well, that would be vanilla, chocolate and strawberry ice cream," Merlin answered, pulling a disgusted face.

"Great," Leon said with a goofy smile.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked. "It's Gaius' idea of joke."

"I'll have that," Leon responded firmly, or as firmly as one can be in a goofy hat, with a toothy smile.

"Okay ... what about you?" Merlin asked turning to Arthur.

"Regular cheeseburger, regular fries, and a cherry coke. Oh, and lots of catsup for the fries. Gotta have catsup on my fries."

Merlin scurried off. A little while later he returned, plopping their food in front of them. Everything served in little plastic baskets, lined with paper, drinks in tall red plastic glasses. Merlin slapped two straws on the table and made to leave.

"Catsup?" Arthur asked.

"Right. Back in a minute," Merlin responded before dashing away.

The second she walked through the door, Gwen felt terribly guilty. Morgana didn't seem to understand the concept that Gwen had to get back to work. She wanted to try the dress on, borrow an iron, which she didn't know how to use. In the end, Gwen had to iron the dress for her. Finally, she had to practically push Morgana out of the door to get her to leave. Gwen ran through the door, saw Merlin rushed off his feet, and went at once to help. She was clearing a table, when she heard from behind her, "Do you work here?"

She turned to face the blond-headed stranger, "Yes..."

"Well, I asked for some catsup ages ago."

"Sorry," Gwen said, taking the bottle from the table she was clearing and handing it to him.

"Wow, the service in this place," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Gwen to hear.

She turned to him, "We're a friendly bunch in Camelot Beach. Next time feel free to borrow one from another table." Her eyes flashed at him. Arthur felt the heat of a full-on embarrassed flush creep over his cheeks.

"Great. Catsup!" Leon grabbed the bottle before Arthur could, and covered his fries with sweet red sauce. "I think I'm really going to like it here," he said oblivious to Arthur's embarrassment.

Arthur watched the waitress take away the bussing tray and disappear into the kitchen. He wasn't sure he shared Leon's assessment.


	2. Surf's Up

"Come on Merlin. Surf's up."

"Could we practice a few more times before we go in the water?"

Gwen took one look at Merlin's face and thought he was a lost cause. He was terrified of the water. She couldn't blame him really. He had never seen the ocean before he arrived at Camelot Beach last year. She had lived at the beach her entire life, had surfed for years, and yet, even she had experienced fear while riding the waves.

"Do you want to try it here a few more times before we go out on the water?" she asked. It was obvious that though he lived at the beach, Merlin did not spend enough time soaking up rays. His skin was still pale. He looked so thin to Gwen, in his baggy board shorts.

"Okay, if you don't mind ... just a few more times."

Gwen lay down on her stomach on the board. In a moment, she jumped to her feet; her knees bent deep, then straightening to standing, her arms outstretched to either side for balance. "Your turn," she told him. She watched as Merlin imitated her moves a few times. "Alright Merlin. Now or never."

"Are you sure?" he asked her, his eyebrows peaking together in question.

"Yes. You have to get out there sometime. Besides, I have to open the shop in a little while. Let's go," with that she grabbed her board and splashed into the surf. Merlin reluctantly followed.

As they paddled out into the water, Gwen yelled to Merlin, "You don't have to try if you don't want to," but she didn't know whether he heard her or not.

* * *

Whether it was because Leon snored like a buzz-saw, or because he wasn't used to the extra narrow, extra hard mattress at the boarding house, or because the so-called curtains were paper thin and let in the morning light, Arthur was awake early. He'd already been to the communal bathroom, showered and dressed for the day, as Leon slept blissfully, albeit noisily. Arthur now wished he'd brought his board with him. If he had, he'd be out surfing right now. Instead, he had to wait for the Board and Surf shop to open.

He went to the window of their room, and looked out at the beach. The sun was up, not a cloud in the sky. It was going to be a perfect day at the beach. He started to turn away from the window, when he spotted movement on the beach below. It was the boy he'd met the day before, Merlin, struggling out onto the sand with his board. Following in his wake was a girl carrying a board as well—her curly hair shiny and dancing around her shoulders. He knew he'd seen her before. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail ... then it came to him. She was the waitress who'd made him feel silly and small for wanting a bottle of catsup.

As she dropped her board to the sand, he noticed that she was wearing a yellow one-piece suit that had darker yellow dots all over it. It wasn't fancy, just functional, perfect for surfing too he thought.

He watched them from the window for longer than was reasonable. It was obvious that she was giving Merlin a surf lesson. Time and again she showed the boy how to transition from paddling out to surfing to shore. She demonstrated the moves with quick assuredness; Merlin imitated them with clumsy awkwardness. Then he watched them paddle out together. The girl carried the same assuredness from the sand to the surf. She was assertive, yet graceful. She was feminine, but moved on the board with authority and confidence. She was having good ride after good ride. Each time, Merlin would paddle out; each time he would lose his nerve and paddle back to shore. "You may as well give up on him," Arthur mused aloud to the girl on the beach, "you'll never make a surfer out of that one."

"Whaaaa?" Leon groaned from across the room, "You say something?"

"Just thinking out loud."

"Well, do you think you could think more quietly so I can get back to sleep?" Leon closed his eyes, and turned onto his side, facing away from Arthur.

Arthur strode to his own bed, picked up his less than fluffy pillow and hurled it at Leon, scoring a direct hit on the back of Leon's head. "What was that for?" Leon asked sitting up.

"_That_ was so that you do not go back to sleep. I've been up for ages and I'm ready to hit the beach."

* * *

A while later, Arthur and Leon walked into the Camelot Beach Board and Surf shop. They had downed coffee and donuts provided by Gaius at the counter of the Snack Shack; Leon had taken an extra donut to go. He was just finishing it off as they entered the Surf Shop. The girl who worked there was still securing the chain that raised the roll-up door to the storefront.

"We'd like to rent a couple of boards," Arthur announced in voice more authoritative and demanding than he'd intended.

"Be right with you," she answered without looking up. "Boards are over there," she said gesturing in the general direction of the row of boards lining the wall of the small shop. "Pick out the ones you want."

When she turned fully around, he noticed that she'd traded her yellow swimsuit for a pair of lace-up hip-hugger denim shorts, and a pink short-sleeve t-shirt. Both fit her to a tee. They stood assessing one another silently for a moment. She broke the silence by nodding in the direction of the boards, where Leon was already looking through them, "Boards?"

"Oh right," he said feeling vaguely silly for staring at her like that.

She moved behind the counter and began setting up shop for the day-making sure the cash register had change, getting out her rental receipt book and pens, and finally, dusting off the light accumulation of sand from the previous day, even though she knew it would be back in no time-such was life on the beach.

As she went about setting up, Arthur and Leon browsed through the boards. Leon settled on a nondescript facsimile of his beloved Betsy, while Arthur found a most interesting board. The wooden board was hand crafted. Painted down the center were two crimson stripes. Two crimson lightning bolts adorned the fins. Arthur carefully removed it from the rack, and ran his hand down the length of the board. "Beautiful," he said, placing it back in the rack.

"You have a good eye," the girl said looking up from behind the counter, pride beaming on her face. "It's one of my father's finest."

"I'd like to rent it ... if you don't mind, that is," he added.

She hesitated, but then said firmly, "No, of course I don't mind, that's why it's there." She took out her rental book and a pen. She was putting carbon paper between the sheets of the rental book, "Your names?"

"You can put them both under my name ... Art ... Penn."

"And how long will you want them?" she asked looking up at him through long lashes.

"Oh, I don't know ... a few days?"

"I can give you a better deal if you want them for the week," she said casually without pressure as she wrote his name on the rental receipt.

He smiled, "Okay, make it a week."

As she retrieved her adding machine from under the counter, his eyes scanned a row of framed pictures on the wall behind the counter. In each a well-known surfer was holding a handcrafted board, presumably from the Camelot Beach Board Shop. Most were inscribed to someone named Tom. _Must be her father_, Arthur thought. The final one was inscribed to "Guinevere?" he said aloud.

"Yes?" the girl said.

"Sorry?" he asked confused.

"Guinevere ... you said Guinevere. That's my name ... Gwen for short."

"Oh ... oh, I see ... um, I was just looking at that picture," he indicated the picture with a wag of his head; her eyes followed. "Isn't that the Duke of the Northern Coast?"

"Yeah. I call him Uncle Duke, even though he's not really my uncle. He's my godfather actually," she went back to her calculations and writing up his receipt.

"Wow, I guess that makes you surfing royalty," he chuckled and gave her what he hoped was his most charming smile.

She smiled back at him, but more with her eyes than her lips. "I don't know about that, but Uncle Duke gets his boards exclusively from our shop ... well, did."

About this time, Leon lumbered up, and leaned on the counter, which was too short and made him hunch over awkwardly. Guinevere handed the rental book to Arthur along with a copy of the rental terms. "These are the do's and don'ts and what it will cost if you accidentally do or don't. You may want to read them before signing."

Arthur let his eyes skim the page just for effect before signing. She'd written Art Penn in careful script at the top of the receipt, which served to remind him not to sign his rightful name, Arthur Pendragon.

As he handed it back to her he said in affected casualness, "So I understand you give lessons."

Here, Leon spoke up, "Since when do you need lessons?" Arthur slammed his foot onto Leon's, causing his friend to yelp in pain. The two exchanged looks until understanding dawned in Leon's eyes.

"Are you alright?" Guinevere asked Leon.

"Yeah, I'm fine. In fact, I'm gonna take that board out right now," he winked pointedly at Arthur, then took the board he'd selected from the rack and headed out to the beach. The longboard didn't look so long beside Leon's tall frame.

"So, Art, you were asking about lessons?"

Her smile disarmed him, "Well, actually, I already know how to surf."

"Between you knowing who the Duke of the Northern Coast is, and the funny way your friend reacted, I kind of figured that out."

"Don't judge too much from Leon acting funny. He acts that way a lot."

Her voice went serious and soft all at once, "So why were you asking about lessons then?"

His eyes found a spot above her shoulder to focus on, "I saw you out surfing this morning. You ride really well ... and I thought maybe we could ride together sometime."

To his surprise, she responded, "I'd like that. I'm in the store most of the day though." Seeing the look of disappointment on his face, she added, "Sometimes I can get Merlin to cover for me, if things are slow. Why don't you come by later?"

With that settled, he paid for the weeklong rental of two boards. Taking the crimson-trimmed one from the rack, he left with an almost noticeable bounce in his step.

* * *

The second day of summer had been quieter than Gwen would have liked. A few people had borrowed boards for the day. A fourth made noises about buying one, but Tom's boards were an investment, not something you purchase on a whim. She'd rented a few beach chairs with umbrellas to the sort of girls who'd never speak to her under different circumstances.

Gwen felt relieved and glad of the company when Merlin stopped by that afternoon. They sat on tall stools behind the counter, playing gin absentmindedly, and watching all the action on the beach ... the girls, the boys, but most of all-the surfing. Gwen watched as Art took his rented board out again and again. It was hard to miss-a splash of crimson in a sea of blue. And he was good; he was really good. Gwen should have known he surfed from the minute he'd walked into her shop. How had she missed the slightly bronzed skin contrasted with his sun-kissed hair? All of it yelled surfer ... and he'd picked the best board in the shop.

Now, she was wondering whether he would actually stop by. He seemed like he would. She shook her head. The last thing in the world she wanted to be was one of those girls who sat around thinking about boys. Still...

"Gwen?" Merlin's voice broke through her thoughts.

"What?"

"Gin!" Merlin triumphantly laid his cards down on the counter.

"What? Again?" She'd lost count of how many games he'd won.

"It's not that hard when you're not paying attention." His voice turned sweet and compassionate, "Is everything okay Gwen?" He patted her hand.

Gwen turned and met his eyes full on, "Merlin, back home, did you have a girlfriend?"

Gwen watched as his face suffused with color. "No ... no ... why do you ask?" he stammered.

Looking at his face, so embarrassed and innocent, Gwen started to reconsider whether Merlin was the right person to talk to about this ... perhaps Morgana.

She'd been so focused on Merlin that she failed to notice Art approaching the shop, practically running across the sand, board under his arm. He leaned the board beside the door before making his entrance. "Guinevere?"

"Oh hi Art. I didn't see you coming," she was grateful to be able to be truthful, if a little disingenuous overall. His hair was damp and tussled, no doubt flecked with salt and sand. He was lean and muscular, as he stood smiling at her expectantly.

"Hi. I wondered if you could get away now ... you know..." Noticing Merlin, after not having noticed him, he added, "Oh hi, Merlin, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Merlin looked from one to the other. Suddenly, he caught Gwen's drift earlier, and felt a bit relieved, but a bit put out as well. Who was this Art Penn to horn in on his best friend?

"Merlin," Gwen turned to him, "do you mind watching the shop for half an hour? _Please_..."

Merlin sighed deeply, but said, "Of course I don't mind ... but don't let it drag on like last night."

Gwen hopped down from her stool, and stood on tiptoes to peck Merlin on the cheek, causing him to color again. Then she headed for the stairs to her apartment over the shop, "Meet you on the beach in five," she called to Art over her shoulder.

Art, for his part, ran to grab his board and wait impatiently on the beach for Gwen to join him.


	3. Wahine are Wild

**Chapter 3 – Wahine are Wild**

Gwen looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She remembered her sixteenth birthday, the day her father put up the mirror as a gift to her. She'd never been one to worry about her appearance, but her father encouraged her to see herself as the lovely young woman reflected in the mirror.

Deciding what to wear had been easy. She only had a few dresses suitable for a date. If she were like Morgana, it would have taken ages to decide. Not so for Gwen. Her blue dress, and the plaid dress with the white sailor collar, both looked like school dresses. The pink one she'd worn to a wedding two summers ago was too dressy and a bit too tight in the bust. That left her sleeveless lavender dress. It fit her well; it had a scoop-neck bodice and a full skirt. She'd bought it at an end of summer sale last year. It still fit perfectly.

She had used a dozen bobby-pins, and even more hairpins to put her hair into a french twist bun. Despite her best efforts, a few tendrils escaped and framed her face. Looking at herself in the mirror, she looked like someone else–not the girl who worked so hard to keep her father's surf shop afloat–but the kind of girl who gets asked out on a date by a handsome young man.

She still couldn't quite believe that Art had asked her to go out. Sure, they'd been surfing together in the early morning and late afternoon for the past two days, but she was still caught off guard by his invitation. Everywhere he went there seemed to follow a group of bikini-clad girls trying to get his attention. They'd just come in from their last ride of the day. "So, I guess I'll see you later at Gaius's ... I mean when I come in for dinner," he said awkwardly, not wanting to remind her of his first night in town.

"I'm off tonight," she replied simply.

"Really?" It had come out sounding a bit odd.

"Yes, really. I do get the occasional night off," she'd responded thinking him a bit dense at the moment ... dense, but gorgeous after a day on the beach.

"If you're not working tonight, maybe we could have dinner together."

"At Gaius's?" the thought of spending her night off at the Snack Shack was horrifying to her.

"Maybe we could go somewhere else." His face was hopeful.

"Like a date?" she squeaked. _Where had that come from? He's going to think I'm an idiot_, she thought.

Instead his eyes found hers, and he'd said, "Guinevere, would you please join me for dinner tonight as my date?"

He sounded so sweet and earnest, and so at odds with the confident surfer she was used to seeing all day. She felt the heat rise in her face, and not just from the residual kiss of the sun. "I'd love to, Art."

"Great. I'll pick you up at 6:30. Is that okay?"

The thought of Art picking her up at her apartment filled her with panic for a moment. Although clean and well kept, it suffered from years of neglect. The appliances and furniture were ancient, because all of their money went right back into the board shop. "Let's meet at Gaius's instead," she said.

* * *

At 6:20 Gwen arrived at the Snack Shack and took a seat at the counter, eliciting a whistle of appreciation from Gaius. "You didn't have to dress up for me, Gwen," Gaius said with characteristic levity.

"Cherry coke, please."

"Cherry coke coming right up." Gaius went to the fountain to mix her drink.

In a moment, Merlin joined them. "Wow, you look really nice."

"Thanks Merlin."

Merlin gave her a quizzical look, "Are you sure you want to go on a date with this guy? I mean what do you really know about him?"

It was true. They'd spent lots of time surfing together, but not so much talking.

Merlin was still talking, "He acts like he belongs at Albion Beach, not here. Yesterday, he wanted to know how often we change the "linens" on the beds, and asked me to sweep the sand out of their room ... like it's some fancy hotel. He even offered me money to clean his room every day."

"And you told him to keep his money, I suppose?"

"Well, no. I figure I can clean that room in no time. So why not take his money. Anyway, my point _is_ that he doesn't even seem like your type."

Gwen was starting to have second thoughts, when Gaius returned with her drink. He'd clearly been listening to their conversation. "That's what's wrong with you kids today … no sense of adventure. That's why you go on a date, to find out if you like somebody. And as for having nothing in common, that can keep things interesting. I remember this one girl when I was in college..."

Merlin rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Oh great, here we go..."

"I dug jazz; she dug classical. She was all prim and proper on the outside, but..."

"Gaius!" Merlin cut off his uncle before his reminiscences got into details he'd rather not hear.

Gwen laughed and sipped her drink. She glanced over her shoulder at the door, hoping that Art would arrive before Gaius resumed his story ... and before she lost her nerve.

* * *

From the moment he'd asked Guinevere to join him for dinner, Arthur had been secretly worried that Leon would want to tag along. It wasn't that he and Leon were inseparable, but Leon didn't always pick up on cues that other people understood. As it turned out, given how much time Arthur had already been spending with Guinevere, Leon had made friends with a group of local surfers who hung out on the beach. Arthur felt relieved when Leon was happy to go to the Snack Shack with his new friends.

Now all he was worried about was making the right impression on Guinevere. He knew that they came from different backgrounds, but she didn't know he was a Pendragon. He'd told everyone that the Thunderbird belonged to his college roommate who was away in Europe for the summer. Still, she was a junior college girl who worked everyday to make ends meet, and to her, he was a university guy, driving a nice car, and taking a vacation at the beach.

He dressed with care and with an eye to not overdoing it. Even though he'd packed a sports coat and slacks for the time he planned to spend at Albion Beach Resort, he decided not to wear them tonight. Instead, he wore a short sleeve button down shirt, casual slacks, and penny loafers–no socks. He grabbed his college letter jacket just in case the evening turned cool.

When he walked through the door of the Snack Shack, it was Merlin he saw first. Merlin was wiping off a table near the door, in that nonchalant way he had of doing just about everything. Arthur kind of liked the kid in spite of himself, although he had a lot to learn about working in a service industry. Arthur could understand how an old beatnik like Gaius could care less about service, but he made it his personal mission to help Merlin understand how to run an inn, or even a boarding house. And then, of course, he was Guinevere's friend, who covered for her at her shop so that they could go surfing in the afternoon. So Arthur made an effort to be friendly to the odd boy.

"Hi Merlin," he nodded his greeting as his eyes began taking in the room. The stage was set with a couple of stools and mikes on stands. "Someone playing tonight?"

Merlin's eyes drifted to the stage, "You're lucky you won't be here. It's Catrina and Jonas, two old folk singer friends of Gaius." He shuttered to emphasize his point. "Don't miss tomorrow night though. The Good Knights are playing."

"Really," Arthur was genuinely excited. The Good Knights was one of the best surf bands around. They had a major hit with _Camelot Beach_. "They're playing _here_?"

"They're a bunch of local boys. They all grew up right here in Camelot Beach. Every summer they come back to play at the Snack Shack, at least once. You should get here early; the place will be packed," words flowed from Merlin in an excited rush. Then he added as an afterthought, "Too bad Gwen'll be working."

His comment instantly triggered Arthur to wonder why he was dawdling here with Merlin, when Gwen sat waiting for him. He looked beyond Merlin to the counter. Gwen was finishing a coke. Her slippered feet dangled nervously from the stool. "Later Merlin."

When he appeared beside her, she turned to greet him with a bashful smile. He'd never seen her with her hair upswept. "You look beautiful." Seeing a blush dot her cheeks, he knew his unfiltered impression had embarrassed her. "This is for you," he added quickly, producing a small florist box from behind his back.

She opened the box to reveal a small white wrist corsage. "Art, thank you. It's lovely." She raised her eyes to his in thanks. Taking it from the box, she slipped the band around her wrist.

He had visited the only florist in Camelot Beach; and the corsage with the two small white flowers had been the only one they had in the store. Seeing it now on her wrist, he thought it was perfect, not big and elaborate like one he would have selected at a larger florist shop, but it suited her perfectly. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," she said in a voice more shy than he'd ever heard from her before. She took an amber colored clutch bag from the counter, and pulled her matching amber cardigan around her shoulders. Arthur helped her down, gently holding her waist; her free hand on his shoulder. They stood a moment gently holding each other.

"Ahem," Gaius materialized across the counter from them. "Well you kids have a good time. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he added with a raised eyebrow.

Once outside, Arthur turned to Gwen and asked, "So, where would you like to go? My car's out front."

"It's such a beautiful night out, I thought we might walk. The Tiki Palace is just up the boardwalk. It's a Camelot Beach institution."

"That's funny. That's what they say about the Snack Shack."

Gwen laughed, not one of those phony laughs that Arthur had become accustomed to from other girls he knew–a real laugh. "All the shops have been here so long, we're _all_ institutions," she told him. Then she'd proven her point as they walked up the boardwalk. Nearly every shop along the way, she'd known the owners all of her life. The candy store featured real homemade fudge and hand-pulled taffy, unlike the tourist shops in Albion Beach. The kite shop was where her father had bought her first kite when she was four. The ice cream parlor still hand-packed pints and quarts of home-churned ice cream.

The Tiki Palace was at the far end of the boardwalk. The row of lit Tiki torches in front made it impossible to miss. Its split-level design ensured nearly every table an ocean view. The sun was sinking in the sky by the time they arrived, not yet sunset but burnishing everything in gold tone hues. A hostess in a tropical print dress seated them beside a window overlooking the quiet end of Camelot Beach. The waiter, wearing a tropical print shirt that matched the hostess' dress, brought two menus so large that Gwen was completely hidden behind hers. Several awkward moments of silence followed while each, under pretense of considering what to order, silently contemplated what to say to the other. Finally Gwen broke the silence, "The menu's a bit overwhelming, but you can't go wrong with the Tiki Scampi. It's always delicious. I used to come here with my dad ... on special occasions." Then she thought about the price, and wondered if Art would think she was taking advantage of him. "Of course, the Tiki Chicken Kabobs are good too."

The waiter arrived to take their order, with a discrete wink at Gwen. Arthur took command of the situation, telling him, "We'll have the King Salad and Tiki Scampi for two, please." They ordered virgin Mai Tai's, which were on the house once the owner realized they were for little Gwennie's table.

Over remarkably good "Tiki Scampi," Gwen told 'Art' about her hopes and dreams to continue and expand her father's business. "It's the reason I want to study business," she told him. "One day I hope to show the world that you can be successful without selling out to the big boys ... and I plan to do it right here in Camelot Beach."

"But surely the big boys get it right sometimes?" he challenged her gently.

"Of course they do. If they didn't they wouldn't be big. It's just that there has to be room for them and for us. When the big boys take over, they _really_ take over. We'll all end up just like Albion Beach—the same tourist shops, chain restaurants, and hotels. No local flavor, and too expensive for real surfers to afford. That's not for me."

Arthur, for his part, had been impressed with her passion. He listened and felt his heart swell inside of him. He wanted to tell her about his hopes and dreams as well ... about the burden of his father's expectations for him. For the first time since he'd met her, he felt the weight of the lie that stood between them.

* * *

After dinner, they walked back up the boardwalk, Arthur taking Guinevere's hand in his. "Let's walk the rest of the way on the beach," she invited him pulling him along with her. He could hardly resist, nor did he want to. He followed her, taking off his shoes as she had, and following her out onto the sand. The moon reflected on the water.

Halfway up the beach they found a driftwood log beside the dying flames of a recently abandoned bonfire, common on the beach in the summer. Gwen beckoned Art to join her on the log. There, they continued their now easy conversation, not just about Camelot Beach and Gwen's love of it, but they also discovered that they'd each been raised by their father. Though Gwen found Art a bit guarded where his father was concerned, he made up for it by talking at length about growing without a mother, and about his love of surfing and all aspects of the sea.

The fire burned all the way down to a few smoldering embers. Gwen shivered from the cool, salty breeze coming off the ocean. Art took off his jacket, and gently placed it around her shoulders. And for a moment, there was nothing in the world for him, except the sound of the relentless surf, and Guinevere. Their eyes met, and she gave him a half smile. Without thinking, he found her lips with his, and held them in a lingering kiss. He hadn't thought. He'd just done what the moment demanded. As he gently pulled back, her lips followed his for an instant. She blinked, swallowed, and the spell cast by the moment was ended.

"We should probably go," he said awkwardly, rising from the log, and offering her a hand up.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, though he still gently held her hand. He walked with her as far as the steps to her apartment on the side of her shop. "Well, this is it," she said for want of something better to say.

"Yes, this is it," he returned, looking down, not meeting her eyes.

She turned to head upstairs. "Oh!" Turning back, she handed him back his jacket. "Thanks for dinner, Art. I had a really nice time."

"Me too." He lingered. "Will I see you tomorrow? You know, surfing and stuff," he stammered.

"Yeah, I'll be here," she waved her hand to indicate the shop.

"Right, of course you will," he said as he took a reluctant step away.

"Goodnight Art." She was already mounting the steps.

"Goodnight Guinevere." He turned and headed back to Gaius's, happy but bewildered, his mind filled with thoughts of Guinevere.


	4. Turtle Roll

_AN: To those of you who have reviewed the story or sent me a PM, thanks! I really appreciate the feedback._

**Chapter 4 – Turtle Roll**

The next day Arthur felt totally bummed. It started when he overslept and missed his chance to go surfing with Guinevere. When he realized the time, he headed straight to her shop without even stopping to have breakfast. But he was too late. By the time he arrived, she was already hard at work. The Board Shop was bustling with people arriving for the weekend, wanting to rent a board. She gave him a disappointed smile and half wave when she saw him through the window, and then got back to work.

Arthur was left to spend the morning surfing with Leon and his new buddies, and fending off a knot of giggling girls, who always seemed to be nearby. But even as he took his board out on repeated runs to shore, a part of his mind was thinking about Guinevere.

Over the years, he'd known a lot of girls, but no one quite like her. She didn't dress stylishly like the college girls he knew, or flash her body at him like the bikini-clad girls on the beach, or pretend to hang on his every word like the ingénues his father was constantly throwing at him. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something special about her, something genuine, something challenging. She was real. She said what she thought, not what she thought he wanted to hear.

By 1:00 there were only two things Arthur knew for sure: he needed to eat, and he wanted to see Guinevere. So he decided to combine the two.

"She's got to eat, right?" he was saying a little while later, as Gaius loaded two cheeseburgers and two orders of fries into a to-go box.

"Yeah ... yes, she does," Gaius murmured in what Arthur had come to think of as hipster drawl. The aging hipster sounded like a DJ on one of those cool jazz stations that Arthur flipped past on the radio. "Vanilla shake for you, and a cherry coke for Gwennie," he added as he put the drinks into the appropriate sections of the box. When Arthur's face looked at him questioningly, he said: "Cherry coke's her fave. Don't tell her, I told you," the older man winked.

Merlin emerged through the kitchen door just as Arthur turned to leave. "What was that all about?" he asked Gaius.

"Just goosing the course of true love, Merlin."

* * *

Gwen had been rushed off her feet all morning. It was the same every summer. The weekdays were slow and relaxed ... relaxed to the point of worry about making ends meet. Then came Thursday. Camelot Beach filled with people coming in for the weekend—many of them in need of boards to rent. Many of them thinking surfing was easy, something to try on a whim. Many of them giving up and spending the rest of the weekend working on their tan. Yes, it was the same every summer. Except this summer, she was working the shop alone. It was lonely. She missed her dad.

She had just returned the deposit to a couple from Hillside, who decided that surfing was much harder than it looked, when Art appeared in the doorway. His hair was damp and tussled; his trunks were equally damp and flecked with sand. No matter, he was a welcome sight. Not only because she'd been disappointed about not surfing with him that morning, but also because he was carrying a to-go box from Gaius's. She hoped that whatever was in it, he planned to share it with her. She would have been content to eat the PB&J sandwich she made for lunch that day, but nothing beat burgers and fries from Gaius's on a busy afternoon.

As he advanced into the shop, the smell of fries pervaded the small space. "I thought you might be hungry?" he practically beamed at her as he placed the box on the counter. "Sorry about this morning, but I thought we could have lunch together instead."

"Thanks. I'd like that," she exuded genuine enthusiasm. She went into the workshop that adjoined the shop and returned with a stool for him.

Gesturing at the workshop with his head, he asked, "Is that where the boards are made?"

"Yes, that's dad's workshop. I'll show it to you sometime if you like."

"I would, very much."

Pulling up her stool beside his, they dug into the best cheeseburgers in Camelot Beach. After the busy morning she'd had, Gwen was ravenous. She ate in silence and with gusto. At one point, she noticed Art watching her.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I've gotten used to eating quickly ... you know, so I can go on to the next thing." She felt like she was babbling. _Slow down_, she thought. "Thing is, except for meals with Gaius and Merlin, I usually eat on my own, and on the go. Lately, it's either work, work, work, or it's school, school, school ... well, you know."

"Yeah," he said though he actually didn't know, thinking of the formal nature of meals in the Pendragon household. "Listen, I was wondering ... um, do you think Merlin can look after the shop this afternoon? The surfing's pretty great today."

"Sorry, Art." She took a long drag of her cherry coke, before going on, "Merlin will be helping Gaius this afternoon. As soon as the lunch rush is over, they'll both be in the kitchen helping Jonesy, the cook, get ready for tonight."

"Merlin told me the Good Knights are playing tonight. It's a really big deal, I guess."

"Yeah, it really is."

"Can't you close the shop this afternoon? Just this once?" his question came out like a plea.

"How can I?" she responded with a small sweep of her hand, "I can't just close up shop and go off and play. This business is all I have, and weekends are when I earn the most. And the shop is my dad's legacy. I try to run it the way he'd want me to." Seeing the expression on his face, "I'm sorry, Art. I really am."

"That's okay. I get it." Everything about him screamed his disappointment.

"Hey, a group of us are going to have a party on the beach after the show tonight ... build a fire ... roast marshmallows ... you know ... why don't you join us?"

His face lit up. "I'd like that!" The distraction worked, and she'd meant to ask him anyway.

She suddenly felt the need to explain that it would be a small town beach party, not the kind of thing that college boys like Art might be used to. "I mean, it's just a bunch of us who grew up around here, but some of the Good Knights might come and play guitar. You should invite your friend Leon too."

"Thanks. I will." Their lunch was now gone. There was a man and his son looking at a board, which signaled time for Guinevere to get back to work. Still, he lingered. He just hated to leave. He hated to leave _her_. What's more he knew that he wouldn't have another chance to be with her like this until ... well, maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow, they'd surf together in the morning. She was already throwing away the trash from their lunch. "So, I'll see you later then," he said, hopping off the stool, taking one last look at those eyes.

"Yeah, I'll see you at Gaius's," she headed over to the man and his son, hoping to rent them a board. And as she pointed them to a board the right size and weight for a twelve year old, her eyes followed Art's blond head out the door and down the beach. There was something about him. By rights, she shouldn't even like him. He was everything she was not. He wore his sense of privilege on his sleeve. He clearly had all the advantages in life that she had not. Yet, he was down to earth. He was here at Camelot Beach, instead of some upscale resort. He would have been more in his element at a resort, but he was trying to fit in here. And she couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing it for her.

* * *

After she closed the shop, Gwen headed upstairs to shower and dress for work that night. She knew it was silly to want to look nice because the Good Knights would be there. After all, they were just boys she knew growing up. They were older than her, and now had made a name for themselves, and had a hit record, but they would always be Kenny, Johnny, Danny and the other Danny to her. So why bother. Add to that that she would be waiting tables, which required sensible shoes and hair. All in all, she shouldn't bother about what to wear. Still ... she put on her denim pedal pushers, and decided it was the perfect time to debut an aqua midriff shirt that Morgana gave her. It had cap sleeves, and buttoned underneath one arm and on the shoulder, and it showed off a bit of her midriff. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she would never have worn it if her father were still alive. But he wasn't, and she was growing up on her own, and making her own choices, and this slightly risqué top was one of them.

There was nothing to be done about the shoes. She pulled on her denim slip-on Van's. They would be perfect for being on her feet all evening; then easy to pull off on the beach later. She knew better than to show up at Gaius's with her hair down. But instead of pulling it into her usual ponytail, she pulled the front and top back with a wide barrette, and let the rest trail down her back. She took a final look in the mirror, and liked what she saw. And then to her surprise, she found herself thinking that she hoped Art would like it too. She grabbed a sweater to wear on the beach later, and headed to Gaius's.

When she arrived, Merlin was behind the counter topping off the catsup bottles. A couple of surfers had already staked their claim to one of the tables. Gwen went to the small locker room and left her sweater, retrieved her apron, and then went to help Merlin set the tables. When he saw her he whistled the traditional catcall, "Wow! I mean that top is like ... wow!"

"You don't think it's too much, do you?"

"No ... No! I just meant, I've never seen you look so ... um, well, you know." A blush graced his nose and cheeks. "Thanks for coming in early. People will be showing up any minute now."

"I know. I remember last summer, and that was before _Camelot Beach_ hit the charts," she returned, as she started distributing condiments to the tables. A young man she didn't recognize was setting up the stage. Approaching the counter where Merlin was still working away, she mouthed, "Who's that?"

"That's Paul," he whispered back. "He says he's their manager, but he does a little bit of everything." At that moment, he was setting up the drum set. He had the same clean-cut surfer look that the Good Knights favored-plaid short sleeve shirt—shirttails out, off-white slacks and white Vans.

"So where are they?" she asked as she returned to her work.

"Upstairs. Gaius gave them three rooms for the night. Can you believe it? A major hit record, but they still have to double up when they come home to play Camelot Beach ... hey, that's a pun! Get it?"

"Yeah, I get it. And the third room?"

"Oh, you know, for Paul and the equipment."

"Hmmmm," was her only response, as she was now totally focused on work.

Art and Leon, accompanied by a couple of Leon's surfing buddies, were next to arrive. They picked a table close to the stage. Art gave Gwen a small wave, but then got back to being one of the boys. They were talking about how great the waves were that afternoon, when Gwen approached to take their orders. She recognized Barry and Thad from their days at CB High. They were in the 12th grade when she was in the 10th. She took her pad and pencil from the pocket of her short apron, ready to note their orders—double cheeseburgers and fries all around. Barry and Thad ordered root beer floats, Art ordered a vanilla shake, and Leon asked for one of Gaius's "famous Neapolitan shakes." She was repeating back their orders when a familiar voice called to her from the door.

"Gwen, over here!" Morgana stood in the doorway waving. Gwen waved back as Morgana approached. To Gwen's way of thinking, Morgana was looking unusually un-Morgana-like. She was wearing a blue and white striped tee shirt, tucked into hip-hugging capris. Her long dark hair was in pigtails.

"Morgana?" Arthur sputtered.

"Art..."

"You two know each other."

Gwen and Morgana were both speaking at the same time.

Arthur cut them both off, "We go to college together. Don't we Morgana?" he said forcefully.

For a moment, Morgana looked confused, "Well, yes we do, but..."

Now Leon jumped in, "Hi Morgana." He was clearly taken with Morgana. Turning to Gwen, he said, "We all go to college together ... the three of us ... _Art_, Morgana and me."

"Hi Leon." Now a calculating look settled on Morgana's face. "Hi _Art_. Long time no see."

"Would you care to join us?" Leon was already on his feet pulling up a chair from a neighboring table.

Gwen was watching the scene unfold in confusion. The only thing that was clear was that Leon had the hots for Morgana, and she couldn't take her eyes off Art. "So, do you want to order anything Morgana?" she asked with an unintended edge to her voice. _Where did that come from?_ She thought.

"Oh yes," she said taking the seat Leon provided for her. "I'll have whatever he's having," she looked at Art as she said it.

"Double cheeseburger, fries, vanilla shake?" Gwen confirmed.

"Sounds good," Morgana now smiled at her friend.

Gwen couldn't help but notice the meaningful looks Art and Morgana were exchanging, but her other tables were starting to fill up, and she didn't have time to worry about it ... at least not now.

She went to the counter and clipped their order to the spindle for Jonesy in the kitchen. Then she gave Gaius, who was working the counter, everyone's drink orders. "What's that about?" he asked, nodding toward Art and Morgana's table.

"I don't know. Some college thing, I think." And she went off to take orders from another table, occupied by the couple from Hillside.

As the Snack Shack filled, Merlin and Gwen were kept busy waiting tables. And Gwen found that she really didn't have time to think about what she witnessed between Art and Morgana ... well not much anyway. At one point, she saw them leave. She could see them through the Snack Shack's front window talking. They returned a few minutes later. Gwen knew something was going on. There was more to the story than their college connection.

* * *

The first chance he got, Arthur pulled Morgana outside for "some air." He needed to get her alone before Gwen came back with their food.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her as soon as they were alone.

"I could ask you the same thing," she countered.

"You first.

"No, you first. And why did you stop me from saying you're my ... my _brother_. Not that I wanted anyone to know, but you act like you positively don't want anyone to know. Or someone in particular."

Arthur knew how difficult Morgana could be when she got into one of her moods. "Okay," he sighed. "Father sent me to check out Camelot Beach's development potential."

"I know that. He said you were going to be here for a day or two and then go on to Albion Beach. That was nearly a week ago, but you're still here. So," she went on impatiently, "what gives?"

"The surfing was good so I stayed a few more days. You know how father feels about surfing."

"Go on," she raised an eyebrow.

"I like it here. We're having a good time."

"You and Leon."

"Yes."

"And Gwen."

"What about Gwen?" He was instantly defensive.

"Right, what about Gwen?"

"I like her..."

"And?"

"And, she doesn't know I'm a Pendragon. No one does."

"Who does she think you are?"

"Art Penn, a college student. She thinks the T-bird is my college roommate's."

"And Leon hasn't given up your secret yet."

"Morgana, why do you always underestimate him?" he asked rhetorically. "Your turn. What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I guess. I like it here. The surfing's great. The people are real. So I come into town every chance I get. I have been for a few summers. That's how I know Gwen."

"I guess you haven't had many chances lately," he said sarcastically, "or we would have run into each other before now."

"I met a someone," she replied cryptically.

"Oh?"

"Yes, up in Albion Beach."

"Go on ... someone father would approved of?"

Morgana flushed. "He parks cars," she murmured.

"What?" He had her where he wanted her.

"He parks cars at Albion Beach Resort."

"I won't tell dad, if you don't."

"Tell him what?" she asked in faux innocence.

"I won't tell him about you dating a car jockey, surfing and hanging out here, if you don't tell him about me."

"What about you?"

"You know surfing, hanging out at Camelot Beach..."

"And falling for Gwen," she finished for him.

Now it was his turn to flush. "So, we have a deal?"

"We do, but there's something you should know..."

Just then Leon stuck his head out of the door, "Hey you two, food's on."

"Hold that thought," Arthur turned away, without waiting for her response.

* * *

Sometime after every table had been filled, and nearly everyone was served, but before the crowd got impatient or restive, the Good Knights took the stage. Merlin dimmed the lights, as Gaius introduced them: "Cats and chicks, guys and gals ... Camelot Beach's own the Good Knights."

Then, Kenny on bass, Johnny on lead guitar, Danny on rhythm guitar and vocals, and the other Danny on drums, came on stage and started to play. Gwen, Merlin, and Gaius watched the show from behind the counter, only leaving it now and again to wait on tables. Most everyone was focused on the driving surf band on the stage. Since they'd made it big, Gwen had seen them mostly on TV—once on Afterschool Dance Party, and once on Weekend Bandstand. Both times they looked every inch of the clean-cut surf band—matching button-down shirts, slacks, and Vans. Tonight, playing at home, in front of their hometown friends, they were casual and mismatched. Kenny and one of the Dannies even wore their Camelot Beach High School tee shirts. Johnny wore a pair of Levi's and a striped tee shirt, and drummer Danny wore an eye-popping color combination of board shorts and tee—definitely not appropriate for Weekend Bandstand.

They played three instrumental tunes, and then launched into the B-side song, _Surfin' Girl_. Then Danny told the crowd, "We have a surprise guest for you tonight folks. Please join me in welcoming back to Camelot Beach, Lance Du Lac. Lance?" he held out an arm to welcome him to the stage. Lance came running in from the hallway that led from Gaius's storeroom to the stage area of the Snack Shack.

* * *

Arthur guessed that girls would consider this Lance guy to be attractive. He had dark hair and eyes. And he ran out on the stage like he owned the place. The Good Knights hit the first few chords of _Camelot Beach_, and Lance and Danny started singing the song that was moving up the charts. At the end, everyone went nuts, clapping and cheering for the local favorites and their ode to the beach town. Then Lance took the mike and announced that the Good Knights were going to let him sing his new song, _Do You Think of Me Too_.

It was a ballad. A ballad! For heaven's sake ... a sappy, sickeningly sweet, romantic ballad, Arthur thought. And if that wasn't bad enough, this Lance guy had found Gwen in the crowd and was acting like he was singing directly to her.

He was so busy watching Lance make eyes at Guinevere, that he blocked out all of the lyrics, except the refrain, which he had to admit was kind of catchy...

_I've thought about you often,_

_Have you thought about me?_

_I've missed you daily,_

_Have you missed me?_

Arthur followed Lance's gaze to Guinevere. She gazed at the singer for several moments; then looked away. Interestingly, a scowl creased Gaius's already creased face. "What's going on?" Arthur whispered into Morgana's ear. Only to be shushed by Morgana. Arthur felt annoyed. What did all those looks between Guinevere and this Lance guy mean? He wanted to know. In fact, he wanted to know right now.

When the romantic ballad was done, the Good Knights transitioned right into _Beach Baby_. Two chords in, Morgana was out of her chair, dancing the swim. Leon joined her. Lance and Danny shared a mike, as Lance joined in singing the refrain. Arthur felt inexplicably like punching this Lance guy in the nose. Well, not inexplicably. He knew it was because of the way this guy kept looking at Guinevere ... maybe more because she kept looking back.

After the last chords of _Beach Baby_ sounded, the drummer Danny announced that they were going to take a short break before playing a few more songs. The Good Knights came off of the stage to mingle with their fans, including Morgana who made a beeline for lead singer Danny, leaving Leon in her wake. _What a flirt_, Arthur thought.

By now the crowd was thinning a bit. Lance had come off the stage too, to meet Gwen at the far end of the counter. To Arthur's mind she looked shy and girly, so unlike the girl he surfed with. She was as sure on a board as any guy. She was all about the surfing then. She looked good in her swimsuit, but wasn't worried about how she looked. Now she looked so girly-the way her hand went to flip her hair over her shoulder. Even the way she tilted her head as she spoke.

Arthur went to join Gaius at the counter. "What's that about?" he asked the older man, as they both looked to the far end of the counter.

"Humph," the older man snorted. Merlin returned from busing tables, just as Gaius made another disparaging noise and went to blend another shake.

Arthur turned to Merlin. "So, what is that about?"

Each took the measure of the other. They had nothing in common, less than nothing, but there was something ... each thought the same of the other. "What? Gwen and Lance?"

Arthur sighed, "Yes, Gwen and Lance."

"I thought you were one of those 'I can have anything I want' college boys, but you really like her, don't you?"

Arthur felt his face burn. "Why can't I be a college boy _and_ really like her?" He met Merlin's big eyes, and then quickly looked away.

"Gaius," Merlin called to his uncle, "I'm going to take five."

"Alright Merlin. Just make sure it's only five."

"Come on," Merlin gestured for Arthur to follow him into the locker room. There, he plopped down on a low bench opposite the staff lockers.

* * *

Gwen was at the counter where she'd stood watching Lance perform the last song of the set as he approached her. "Can I get you a drink?" her voice came out soft and musical, even to her own ears. Much more than she intended. Finding herself again, she added, "I mean, you must be thirsty."

"Gwen..." came his buttery response, "I do want a drink, but more than that I want to drink you in. You've no idea how much I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, but..."

"I know," he cut her off, and laid his hand on hers, "I'm sorry Gwen. I can't tell you how sorry I am about last summer."

"You could have called or written."

"I had nothing to offer, Gwen ... living from gig to gig ... I still am."

* * *

"Well," Arthur was all impatience.

Merlin looked at him, wondering if telling him was a mistake. He sighed, "Well, I guess it's not a secret ... Lance played here last summer. He was with a band called the Lance and the Board Boys. They stayed at Gaius's for a couple of weeks. And ... well ... he and Gwen got to be friends. He seemed to like her, and I know she liked him too. Then one day, the band gets a gig in South Hills, and they take off. She never heard from him again ... until today that is. Not even a postcard. Anyway, if I know Gwen, she's out there right now, figuring out how to forgive him. Don't tell her I told you, okay?"

"No, I won't."

* * *

By the time they got back, the Good Knights had finished their cokes, and were doing a sound check. Morgana and Leon were back at the table. There were a few empty tables now. Gwen was taking her turn at busing. The Lance guy was leaning back against the counter, ever so casually, surveying the room, but mostly following Gwen with his eyes.

The Snack Shack was filled by the buzz of people talking and laughing, instruments tuning, the shake blender blending ... until the burr of motorcycles was heard outside. The saloon style doors flew open with a loud bang to reveal a short, homely man in leather, flanked by a flock of leather clad men and women. "The Rats" emblazoned across the back of their jackets.

Merlin stopped mid-motion. "Who's that?" Arthur asked him.

"Von Zipper. Hengist Von Zipper."

"Who?"

"Hengist Von Zipper ... a local lowlife who shows up every summer to cause trouble."

Apparently, the local guys knew Von Zipper, because in an instant they were all out of their seats forming a human wall opposite the little biker. Then in response, Von Zipper's guys were at his side forming a wall of their own. Arthur had never seen Gaius move so fast. Brushing past Merlin and Arthur, he was out from behind the counter and between the two groups with surprising speed. He threw up his hands, as if to hold the men back. "Cool it!" his voice rang out through the Snack Shack. A hush settled over the once noisy room. "We don't want any trouble Zipper. Everyone's having a good time, groovin' to the music. So, if you're here to cause trouble, take a hike."

A false smile crossed Von Zipper's lips. "I'm not here to make trouble Gaius." The little man snapped his fingers, and two leather-clad girls went to his side, "I'm just here so the chickies can hear the Good Knights," he said disingenuously.

"Right," Gaius responded skeptically, "but if you put one boot," he pointed looked at the biker's tiny feet, "wrong, I'll turn the boys loose."

"Hey, no trouble tonight daddy-o," Von Zipper mocked.

For a few minutes, it seemed like everything would be fine. Von Zipper and his gang occupied a couple of tables. The Good Knights went back to warming up. Merlin and Gwen went back to taking orders. And Gaius went back behind the counter.

The Good Knights started playing again. Arthur returned to the table with Morgana and Leon. Arthur looked across the room to where Lance stood leaning against the counter, surreptitiously keeping an eye on Guinevere.

The next tune brought Morgana to her feet; Leon followed. Arthur watched Von Zipper leave his table, and shuffle (although Arthur knew he thought he was dancing) his way over to Morgana. He could see Von Zipper approach Morgana, who towered over him and appeared to laugh in his face. Von Zipper "danced" his way back to his table looking humiliated. Just then Gwen, approached the table. _She should have left it to Merlin_, Arthur thought. And all things considered, he was right.

* * *

Even the thought of a slimy little roach like Von Zipper infesting the Snack Shack made Gwen angry–especially tonight. She hated the way he came around, with his hangers-on trying to intimidate her friends, and the others who were here to enjoy the beach, the surfing, and the band. She was still smoldering when she went to his table to take his order.

"What can I get you?" her voice full of contempt.

"Hey, I remember you. Still waiting tables? Hey, why don't you leave all this behind? I have a place for you in the Rats. I gotta a jacket that's just your size," the little sleaze-ball practically drooled on her. The current female Rats looked at once offended by their so-called leader, and jealous of the attention he was paying Gwen.

"No thanks," she told him forcefully. "But I will take your order, if you plan to order something, that is." Her look conveyed her disgust and impatience.

Unfortunately, Von Zipper didn't take the hint. He went on recklessly, "Yeah, I remember you from last summer. You've really grown up since then," his hands made the shape of an hourglass, and he gave Gwen a lecherous grin.

She turned to walk away, with the parting shot, "Let me know if you want to order something." But before she could take a full step, she felt Von Zipper's hand on her arm. Standing, he grabbed her and turned her back toward him.

"That's not very friendl..." he couldn't finished his sentence before Gwen's free hand landed a loud slap across his face. In her peripheral vision, she saw Art hurdling over a chair and coming to her aid. He grabbed Von Zipper by the arm, spun him around, and decked him. Then Lance joined the fray, going after one of the Rats. Then all hell broke loose.

Gaius would never be sure who or what exactly started the melee that followed. All anyone knew for sure was that the locals and the Rats squared off. Chairs were broken, tables upended, food flung, punches thrown. It was a good old-fashioned free for all. Guys, girls, even Gaius, everyone was involved. Then it spilled out onto the beach. Von Zipper and his gang were taking it hard from the locals plus Art, Leon, Morgana, and various visitors.

It might have gone on all night, if two squad cars and a van from the Camelot Beach PD had not shown up when they did. Gaius explained how Von Zipper had harassed his guests who came to see the Good Knights. In the end, the police had run Von Zipper and his gang out of town, warning them not to come back. "Hengist Von Zipper will return," he announced with a snap of his fingers. Then he and the Rats were gone, punctuated by the roar of motorcycle engines heading up the road that led to the highway and out of Camelot Beach.

Gaius surveyed the damage with Gwen and Merlin at his side. The Good Knights had been able to put their instruments away, but there was much to be done to be able to open the next day. Most everyone headed down to the beach. Gwen and Merlin stayed with Gaius, offering to start cleaning up the Snack Shack. Although the damage was mostly superficial, Gwen felt terrible about losing her cool with Von Zipper and starting the fight to begin with. She helped Merlin turn the tables right side up, while Gaius used a large push-broom to begin clearing up the bits of broken plastic cups and pitchers. Gaius picked up a plastic basket from the floor. "Now you know why I don't serve anything that comes in a bowl," he laughed. Having the Snack Shack torn apart by Von Zipper and his cronies was becoming an annual event. "Listen, I know there's a party on the beach tonight. Why don't you two go? Have fun. We can always clear this up in the morning."

"Thanks Gaius!" Merlin was quick to jump at the offer.

It was Gwen, still feeling guilty, who hesitated, "Are you sure Gaius? I don't mind helping."

"No, go on ... both of you. But Merlin?"

"Yes Gaius," the boy was nearly through the door, thanking his lucky stars for not being stuck cleaning up while everyone else was down on the beach.

"Don't stay out too late. We'll have to get up early."

"Yes Gaius." He was momentarily deflated. But his disappointment only lasted a moment. Merlin and Gwen raided the Snack Shack kitchen for hot dogs, buns, and marshmallows, plus a couple of six packs of cokes and a bottle opener. Then Gwen retrieved her sweater from the locker room and met Merlin to join the others on the beach.

* * *

Gwen could see that the bonfire was lit, but was still little more than a glow in the distance. She could see kids dancing on the beach, hearing the tinny burr of a transistor radio battling the sound of the waves. But she was surprised to find two lone figures waiting outside of the Snack Shack, an uneasy quiet hanging in the air between them.

Art came forward at once, "Can I give you a hand?" he asked Gwen reaching to relieve her of the cokes she was carrying in one hand.

"Thanks," her voice came out slightly embarrassed. "I guess I should do introductions," again in an awkward, shy voice.

"No need," Lance answered. "We met while we were waiting." Then to Merlin, "Good to see you again Merlin. How've you been?"

"Oh, you know ... the same. Still in servitude to Uncle Gaius," Merlin laughed. He and Lance followed Gwen and Art by a few feet. Gwen could hear them over her shoulder making small talk.

"So the Rats are really something," Art was saying.

"I'm just sorry that I lost my cool with Von Zipper."

"He had it coming."

"He did, didn't he?" Another awkward silence descended on them. _Why wasn't Merlin babbling on as usual_, she thought with more than a hint of annoyance. The walk across the beach seemed to last forever. "It was the same last summer," she decided to break the silence. "Von Zipper showed up, started trouble, and the Snack Shack was trashed."

"Yeah, but we sent him and the Rats packing. Didn't we Merlin?" Lance chimed in.

"I don't understand why he came back. You think he'd get the message," Merlin picked up the thread of conversation and went with it. "Little troll should get what's coming to him."

"Oh, I think he got it," Lance added. Then to Art, "You really held your own in there, Art. You've got a mean right cross. Where'd you learn to throw a punch like that?"

_Leader of the secret Pugilist Society on campus_, Arthur thought, but instead he responded noncommittally, "Here and there. "You?"

"I've played a lot of bars and clubs this last year ... not all of them good." Lance looked to Gwen for her reaction, and found a look of hurt, but also pride.

Art sighed aloud, grateful that they were within steps of the others. Morgana was shaking it, not with Leon, but with Barry. Leon looked on from the fireside.

* * *

The party raged on well past midnight. Danny from the Good Knights had shown up with an acoustic guitar, and strummed out a few tunes before calling it a night. Slowly the party-goers dissipated. Morgana said her goodnights to all. Both Leon and Barry tripped over themselves and each other to escort her back to her car. Leaving Art, Gwen, Merlin and Lance alone by the dying fire.

"Typical," Art muttered as they departed, to no one in particular.

"What?" Gwen looked at him anxiously, still unclear on the nature of his relationship with Morgana.

"Morgana ... always stringing someone along," Arthur was filled with righteous indignation on Leon's behalf.

But Gwen perceived it differently, "Well," she said, rising from the driftwood log where she'd been sitting, "I really should be getting back too. I have to open the shop early tomorrow." Art's open jealousy over Morgana's conquests stung. She could have played up her own feelings for Lance now that he was back, but she didn't want to behave like that. In truth, she didn't know _what_ she wanted.

But Lance rose too, and asked, "May I walk you back?"

"Thanks Lance, but no. I'll see you tomorrow," she laid a gentle hand on Lance's shoulder. "Goodnight," her eyes gazing out over the waves as she spoke. Then she pulled her sweater tight around her, and headed back toward the boardwalk and home.

Inexplicably, Arthur felt a lump in his throat as he watched her take her leave, without a word specifically to him. His eyes lingered on her departing form, and then he noticed Lance and Merlin were watching him. "Well, I should get back myself." He rose, brushed the sand off his bottom, and followed Guinevere's tracks branching to the left, toward Gaius's, where she'd branched to the right, back toward the board shop.

Lance and Merlin remained by the fading firelight. Lance spoke first, "So, a lot's happened since I've been away."

"What do you mean?" Merlin responded in his uniquely oblivious way. "Oh, Gwen..."

Lance's eyes followed the departing, now distant figures. "He's so different from Gwen."

"For real," but Merlin thought about all he'd witnessed between the two over the past days, and added, "but I think he really likes her ... a lot."

"Yeah, well, what's not to like? Gwen's a great girl," was Lance's only response.


	5. Wipeout

**Chapter 5 – Wipeout**

The sun was up, but no sunlight came through the window of Room 3 of Gaius's boarding house. Arthur woke to the first gray day since they'd come to Camelot Beach. Low overcast hung over the ocean muting the sky and the surf that were vibrant blue only the day before into a muddy gray haze. He could still surf, but even the most dedicated would be wearing a wetsuit this morning. His eyes surveyed the beach through the window. Two surfers were out on the waves already. The one in a black wetsuit was clearly male and too tall to be her. The other was too far off to see, a mere speck of color in the ocean. He sighed and looked across the room at Leon, his snoring muffled by the thin pillow over his head. He may as well head down and see what Gaius was cooking up for breakfast.

He had the communal bathroom to himself this morning. Between the fight, the party, and the lousy weather, he guessed everyone was sleeping late this morning. He threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt with his college's seal on it and headed downstairs.

Beyond the door that connected the boarding house to the Snack Shack, he could hear voices. He paused in the doorway just long enough to hear Merlin say, "I'm really sorry Gwen."

"He didn't even say goodbye ... again!" was her response.

Arthur hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but he didn't want to barge in either. So he waited.

"The Good Knights invited him to do some gigs with them. They had to get an early start," Merlin explained.

"And I suppose all the paper and pens in Camelot Beach disappeared, so he couldn't leave a note," she sounded angry, hurt, and disappointed all at once. "Sorry Merlin. I mean I know you like Lance..."

"I like you more," Merlin was saying. Arthur decided that whether he meant to or not, he was eavesdropping and it was wrong. He walked in to find them side-by-side at the counter. Merlin was giving Gwen an awkward hug.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not. I was just leaving," she said, hopping down from the stool and making a beeline for the door, but not before Arthur noticed the tears in her eyes.

* * *

The entire day seemed as gray as the weather. Arthur borrowed a wetsuit from one of Leon's friends and tried to erase all thoughts of Gwen by losing himself in the waves. Every now and then the sun would struggle through the overcast, but mostly his mood blended seamlessly into the sea and sky.

Just before lunchtime he headed back to Gaius's, but not before taking a peak at the Board Shop and seeing that in spite of the cool weather, Gwen had a few customers in the store. He wanted to go and speak with her, maybe surprise her with lunch again. She'd liked that. But he wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want to see her all mopey about Lance ... and there was something else. Seeing the hurt that Lance left in her eyes this morning, he knew it was time to come clean. It was time to tell her that he was not Art Penn, but Arthur Pendragon. First, he would fortify himself with one of Gaius's cheeseburgers and a shake.

* * *

His father sat waiting for him at a table in the Snack Shack. Gaius was behind the counter setting up for the lunch rush. It was only now, seeing his father, Uther Pendragon, sitting in the Snack Shack, that Arthur realized that he no longer thought of it as a rundown beach dive, but rather as a place that grooved to its own rhythm, much like its owner. It was in stark contrast to his father who sat there in an impeccable dark grey suit, with shoes so perfectly polished that the flecks of sand stood out, and hair freshly trimmed, not one out of place. His father pulled the cuffs of shirt out from underneath his jacket sleeves–a nervous tic that betrayed when Uther felt impatient and uncomfortable.

There was nothing to be done, but face the music. Arthur felt like a riptide was taking him under.

"I would expect something like this from Morgana, Arthur. But not you," his father began. Arthur knew a stern lecture was about to ensue. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" His father waited, but only momentarily. "You had to know I'd find out. I called the resort to make sure you were receiving the best, and was told you never checked in. Do you have any idea how I felt having to admit to the staff there that I didn't know where my own son was? I've been sick with worry Arthur. And you were here all the time."

Arthur reluctantly pulled out a chair opposite his father. "I'm sorry Father. I came to check out the development potential as we'd agreed, but I stayed for the surfing." In the background, Arthur heard Gaius drop a plastic cup to the floor. He thought he heard the older man stifle a cough or a laugh.

"Surfing? Here?" Uther's voice rang through the room. "It's one thing to take lessons at one of our resorts, but you know how I feel about slumming!" With that Gaius came out from behind the counter and stood watching the father and son, but said nothing. "Pack your bags, and come home Arthur, I expect to see you in my office at 9:00 AM tomorrow morning."

"Father," Arthur pleaded, "I can't just up and leave."

"Uther, give the kid a break," Gaius broke in unable to be silent any longer.

"And you Gaius, you stay out of this," Uther waved an angry finger in Gaius's direction. The time when I would have listened to your advice is long gone. Those days disappeared when you embraced all of this," Uther gestured with his hands to indicate the Snack Shack, "over a normal life and decent work."

Gaius kept his cool, "I looked after him, Uther, even though I didn't know he was your kid. I don't let the kids get into trouble."

"Right, like brawling with the local lowlifes? Did you think I wouldn't hear about that?"

"Your kid can handle himself, Uther. Something you would have appreciated once," Gaius volleyed back.

Now Uther was red in the face, clearly angry. He turned back to his son, "Tomorrow. 9:00 AM. My office. Got that?"

"Father," Arthur pleaded.

Gaius intervened again, "Uther, let him stay. He's paid through the week anyway. And I'll see him right. You have my word ... and whatever else you say about me, you know I'm true to my word."

Now Uther unexpectedly mellowed, and seemed to consider. Something that Arthur was not sure he'd ever seen before. His father's face began to fade to its normal hue. His hand went to his temple and massaged it gently as he thought things over. "Fine," he said at last. Then pointing his finger until nearly touched Arthur's face, "But I'll see you in my office 9:00 AM Monday morning. No excuses," he bellowed.

Uther stood with sudden and decisive motion, knocking his chair to the floor, and stormed through the swinging doors, without a backwards glance at Arthur or Gaius. Arthur could not remember the last time he'd seen his father so angry ... at least not at him.

Gaius righted the chair, and took Uther's place at the table. "How do you know my dad?" Arthur asked him.

"We go way back, Uther and I." Gaius turned thoughtful, and Arthur saw a kind of wisdom in the old man's face that he hadn't noticed before. Gaius went on, "We go back to a time when I wore a suit and sat at a desk everyday ... to a time when Uther was a young man struggling to earn the respect of his own father ... back to a time he had a crush on your mother and didn't have a clue what to say to her... back to a time when the family business fell to him at too early an age ... and he valued my advice and friendship."

"What happened?"

Gaius' eyebrows twitched and he made a small gesture with his hands, "People change. One day I decided it wasn't for me. So, I walked away. I came here, started over. I'd hoped to keep my old friends, but over time I lost touch ... especially with those who didn't respect my choices." They were silent for a time before Gaius said, "I should have known you were Uther and Igraine's son. You have your mother's eyes. I should have noticed that before now."

"You knew my mother?"

"Of course I knew Igraine. She was a knockout. Uther fell head over heals for her. He was devastated when he lost her."

"Sometimes I feel like he blames me for that," was Arthur's dejected observation.

"Well, obviously I haven't seen Uther in a long, long time, but he loved you from the start. You were his consolation for losing Igraine."

They were quiet for a long moment as Arthur thought over what Gaius told him. "I've really made a mess of things," he said thinking aloud. "Gaius, I have to tell Guinevere who I really am."

"There's something you ought to know first." An ominous pause ensued, while Gaius chose his words, and Arthur wondered what else could go wrong. "Guinevere's father, Tom, was one of the protesters at the opening of the Pendragon's Albion Beach Resort." Another pause. "He died that day."

"But ... but no one was _hurt_," Arthur's voice sounded shrill and panicky even to his own ears.

"No. Tom, along with the others, was arrested, cited, and released. But Tom had never been in trouble before. And while it's true that no one was hurt, they don't treat protesters with kid gloves either. At Uther's insistence, they were locked up all afternoon with the clear intention of intimidating them ... to discourage further protests. Later that evening they were processed and released. On the way home, Tom suffered a heart attack. He never got to say a proper goodbye to Gwen. So you see, to this day she associates her father's death with the name Pendragon."

"She's never going to forgive me," a whole new wave of despair washed over him.

"Never's a long time son," Gaius patted Arthur's arm, in a way so at odds with the hipster exterior. Arthur saw through it now. "And a lot will depend on what happens next. Gwen's been through a lot. She's bound to be angry, maybe even feel betrayed, but if you're half the man I think you are, you'll keep trying 'till you figure out the right words to get her to forgive you."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"_That_ I don't know kid." Arthur could almost see Gaius slip back into his hipster persona as he went back behind the counter and got back to work.

* * *

It hadn't been the worst day ever, especially for being so gray and overcast. Gwen had managed to rent a few boards and some wetsuits. And while business wasn't as brisk as it would have been on a sunny Friday, she'd kept busy through the morning and early afternoon. But now as the day wore on, she had plenty of time to think about Lance's latest sudden departure, and about the fact that Art hadn't shown his face all day. She wasn't sure what to make of that, or even if she wanted to make anything of it. After all, it wasn't like she had something going with either of them. They were just summer boys, both of them–here today, gone tomorrow. That's what her father always said about summer boys. "Don't count on any of them," her father had told her. And he'd been right.

So she knew better than to pin her hopes on either of them–especially Art, who seemed to have a thing for Morgana, and certainly came more from Morgana's world than from hers. The shop was deserted at the moment, so she opened the door to the adjoining workshop, flipped on the light, and looked around.

Sometimes she found it difficult to face her father's workshop. Everywhere she looked, it reminded her of him. All the tools of his trade lined the room. The last board he would ever craft was still on the workshop table. All it needed was fine sanding, paint and sealant to finish it. Tom had taught her years ago how to finish a board. Yet somehow she could not bring herself to finish this one. She ran her finger slow down the length of the board, feeling the solidity of the wood beneath her finger. She had dozens of sketches of designs for this board, upstairs in a drawer of Tom's old desk. None of them she deemed right or worthy.

If Tom had lived, he would have been at work here in the workshop, and Gwen would have been minding the shop. Tom had dreamed of expanding the shop, adding more staff. He felt there would always be a place for one-of-a-kind, handcrafted boards, even if most of the industry turned to fiberglass and mass production. Gwen had shared his dream. She still felt that with a bit of money, she could make the dream a reality. After all, surfing was in her blood. With a bit of money, she could add on to the workshop, maybe install skylights for natural light. She could invest in new equipment ... advertise in the surf mags and at competitions beyond Camelot Beach. She had ideas … if she only had capital.

"Guinevere!" Her whole body jumped from the surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Only, I've been calling your name." She turned to see Art standing in the doorway that connected the shop to the workshop. "Maybe you should invest in one of those electric eye buzzers that lets you know when someone enters the shop."

She laughed, "You're kidding, aren't you? It would never be worth the cost, and it would drive me crazy. Anyway, I usually just put a bell on the counter that customers can ring. I guess I forgot..." her voice trailed off. Suddenly she comprehended that Art was in her father's workshop, taking everything in with his eyes.

"So this is where the boards are built?" he said absently. "That's a nice looking board," he indicated her father's final piece, where her hand still rested.

"It will be when, or if, I finish it."

"Why wouldn't you?" he continued sidestepping his purpose in visiting her.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm having a hard time with it. It was Dad's last, and I guess it's like when this one is finished ... well, he's not coming back either way ... but then I'll have to find my own way. It's silly, right?"

"No, I don't think so. You must miss him very much," came his sympathetic response.

"I do." They fell silent for a few moments, before Gwen decided she should make an effort. "So, what are you doing here? Sorry, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. What I meant was, did you have a good day? I haven't seen you since this morning ... except occasionally through the window. Surfing good today?"

"The surfing was fine," his voice weighed down with serious intent. "The thing is, there's something I need to tell you."

She'd sensed it was coming. Ever since the last night on the beach, she knew. First Lance, now this. _Don't count on any of them_, her father's voice echoed in her head. "It's about Morgana isn't it?"

"Morgana?" He was baffled.

"Your relationship with Morgana?" she led him.

"Well, indirectly, I suppose." He was still baffled, "Morgana? Oh, you think ... oh,_ oh! _No, it's not like _that_."

"Well, what is it like?"

"She's like a sister to me."

"I don't understand," was her now impatient response.

Art approached and laid his hand on hers. "She's like a sister to me, because we were raised like siblings." She didn't withdraw her hand, but her eyes held his closely looking for the answer. "Guinevere, my name isn't Art Penn. It's Arthur Pendragon."

* * *

For a moment, he thought everything would be all right. She didn't scream or swear or slap him. She just stood there. Still, the look that crept into her eyes was hard to bear. Then with sudden force, she threw his hand off of hers. "Don't touch me, Art or Arthur or _whoever_ you are."

"Guinevere, I wanted to tell you."

"Then why didn't you?"

His face burned with shame. _How could he tell her? _"Guinevere, it's true I lied about my name, but not about how I feel about you."

"Then why_ did_ you lie? Why are you here? The truth this time!" she demanded.

He felt cornered. She deserved to be angry. He'd earned it, but still ... still, he wanted her forgiveness. "My father sent me to check out the development potential..." he began. She made a dismissive, angry noise, punctuated by a contemptuous toss of her head. "But … but that changed. Honestly Gwen, I never meant to hurt you. Just the opposite, I like you ... I like you a lot."

She closed her eyes and seemed to consider for a moment. _Maybe it would be okay after all_, he thought. She would understand, and forgive him. Maybe agree to meet him in the morning to go...

"Get out," she turned her eyes on him, and he knew he was mistaken.

"Guinevere, please..." he pleaded.

"You heard me ... out! Scram! Beat it! Whatever it is that college boys named _Pendragon_ say when they mean _get out_!"

All at once his heart hit the floor of the workshop. "I'm sorry Guinevere. Please believe me." He backed out of the door of her father's workshop, leaving his heart behind in a million shards.

* * *

She could not remember the last time she'd closed up early without a really good reason. The humble shop was her dad's legacy. That's what she told Art or Arthur or whatever he chose to call himself to conceal the fact that he was a Pendragon. Her head told her not to make a big deal of it, to go back to the shop and behave as if nothing had happened. But her heart felt betrayed, lied to, wounded, and angry. There was only one thing that would make her feel better.

So whether lies and betrayal were reason enough or not, she closed up the shop, posting a sign to say she'd be back in the morning, and headed upstairs to change. This time she ascended the steps without her usual bounce. She left her shorts and tee shirt in a heap on the bedroom floor; shimmied into a favorite one-piece suit in a faded blue tropical print; and went down the back stairs to get her board.

Paddling out, Gwen knew that no matter what troubled her, when she was out on her board everything felt right. There was still plenty of daylight and plenty of time before she had to go to work. She would take as many runs as she could until then.

* * *

It had been an unmitigated disaster. He felt ashamed and embarrassed. He wanted to believe that she'd overreacted. After all, he'd said he was sorry. And it's not like he'd set out to hurt her. A flood of rationalization took his mind, even as his legs took him back toward Gaius's. For a moment, he thought about going inside and pouring out his troubles to the old man. He'd know how to advise him.

But instead, when he reached the Snack Shack, he headed to the side entrance where the boards were stored. He left his shirt and shoes right there, grabbed his board, and headed across the sand and into the surf.

The beach was flecked with a dwindling number of surfers, as it often was in the late afternoon. He would ride as long as possible, letting the surf work out things that his mind could not. Paddling out for yet another run, Arthur spotted her. There was no mistaking her form or command of the board.

* * *

He had given her plenty of space–focusing on his own form, instead of hers. But when it appeared that she was calling it quits for the day, he followed her in. Grabbing his board, he ran heavily through the sand to catch up to her. She slowed and waited for him. _This was hopeful._ When he reached her, she no longer seemed as angry as she had only a short time ago. Maybe she'd worked things out by surfing.

"Do you know Crabby Annie's?" she asked when he caught up to her.

_This was hopeful indeed!_ Maybe they could talk things out over a plate of cracked crab legs. "Sure ... about halfway up the boardwalk," his voice was expectant.

"Good. I suggest you eat there tonight. I have to work at the Snack Shack, and I don't want to see you there." That said, she turned, secured her board under her arm, and trudged across the sand, leaving him devastated once again ... and without plans for dinner.

* * *

Gwen rifled through her drawer until she found the Northern Coast tee shirt her Uncle Duke had sent her last summer. It was two sizes too big and hung all the way down past her hips. Underneath, she put on a pair of blue capris, and finally she pulled on her oldest, cruddiest Keds. She'd braided her hair into two messy pigtails. Everything made a statement–I don't care. "Boys! Who needs them," she said this aloud. "Maybe I should get a pet, so I won't be the crazy-talking-to-herself surfer chick," she said this aloud too. Laughing, but a sad kind of laugh, she headed over to the Snack Shack to work.

She found Gaius looking a bit frantic. "Thank goodness you're here, Gwen. I have no idea where Merlin has gotten to, and the tables need to be set..."

Before he could finish his sentence, she was at his side ready to work. Noticing the stage was set, she asked, "I didn't know you were having another act in tonight. Who's playing?" The stage was set with a stool and an acoustic guitar, one mic.

"I didn't know I was having an act in either until an hour ago. Nicky Nimueh showed up out of the blue ... well, does she show up any other way? Anyway, she wants to play for a couple of nights, and I haven't booked anyone else, so..."

"Even after all of the trouble she caused the last time she was here?" Gwen was incredulous. The last time Nicky Nimueh had shown up was two years ago, and Gwen remembered it well. Nicky was traveling with a three-piece band of what her dad called hoodlums–the kind of boys Tom wanted far away from his daughter. Nicky herself had teased hair, and wore more mascara than Gwen had ever seen anyone wear before ... and she smoked! She seemed like someone who fit more with the Rats than at the Snack Shack. But when she got up on stage, she had a voice like an angel. When she left town, she cleaned out Gaius's till. That night Tom and Gaius had gone to Tommy's Bar in town and tied one on. It was the first, and only, time she'd seen her father soused. The next morning, Tom told her that he only went to keep Gaius company, and that Gaius felt like an old fool for being taken in by the likes of Nicky Nimueh.

"She was a scared and troubled kid, Gwen," Gaius's voice broke into her thoughts. "I ought to at least give her a chance to prove that she's changed." As he set up the fountain area and Gwen filled condiment bottles, Gaius went on in a serious way, "People make mistakes, Gwen. But there's a lot to be said for forgiveness. Forgiveness is more about us than the person we're forgiving."

"You're not talking about Nicky anymore, are you?"

"He made a mistake, Gwen. Surely you can understand that," was Gaius's response.

"Yeah, I can, but what I don't understand is why you're sticking up for him. You two couldn't be more different if you tried," came her emphatic reply.

"Perhaps that's true, but I advised his father for many years."

"You did?"

"Yes. Long ago. Uther Pendragon is a tough, disciplined man. He expects so much from others." Now Gaius turned back to the counter and stood beside Gwen. For the moment, they stopped working and gave their conversation their full attention. "It's not that Uther doesn't love his son. I'm sure he does, but he's not given to displays of affection. And then, of course, there's Igraine."

"Who?"

"Igraine, the mother Arthur never knew," Gaius told her.

"I barely knew my mother," Gwen half-whispered.

"Well then, imagine if Tom had been distant, hard, and demanding, and you'll have some idea how Arthur was brought up. It's true I wasn't there to see it ... perhaps if I had been I could have helped him in some way." Gwen could see where Gaius was coming from.

"But Gaius, what if Uther Pendragon decides to turn Camelot Beach into the another Pendragon Resort? We'll lose everything … our businesses, and our way of life."

Gaius turned and looked at her, his expression was serious, dark even, so unlike the usually easy-going old man. "Don't worry Gwen. I can handle Uther Pendragon. I still know where one or two of his skeletons are buried … business-wise, I mean." Now Gaius's face softened and he looked like himself again. "Frankly Gwen, I've always known this day would come. You can't live in the best place in the world and not expect someone to notice. If it weren't Pendragon Resorts, it would have been Odin Hotels. Besides, before too long young Art will be running Pendragon Resorts, and I suspect he'll do things very differently from Uther. In the meantime, we'll fight to preserve our way of life."

"Do you really know where his skeletons are buried? _Business-wise_, of course," Gwen asked tentatively.

"I do."

"Gaius, has anybody ever told you that you're the coolest. Because you really are," she gave him a brief hug.

The old man was momentarily flustered. Regaining his balance he said, "About Art, you can't hold having Uther for a father against him, and you can hardly blame him for falling for the prettiest girl on Camelot Beach." Gwen blushed and looked down, but a smile came to her lips. "So, does that mean you'll forgive him?"

"No, but I'll think about it," she said as she started distributing the condiments to the empty tables. Gaius too returned to his work. Looking back over her shoulder as she worked she said, "But I'm doing it for you, Gaius, not for Mr. Richie Rich Pendragon!"

* * *

Arthur's board felt like a dead weight under his arm as he made his way back to Gaius's. He left the board under the stairs, retrieved his shirt and shoes and headed upstairs for a shower and to figure out what to do next.

He hadn't seen Leon all day. And he thought the movement and noise coming from their room must be his gangly roommate, doing ... well, heaven only knew what. He was surprised to find Merlin making his bed. A broom and dustpan leaned against one wall.

"So, you're back?" Merlin didn't know quite what to say. "I'll be done in a minute."

"That's alright," came the disconsolate response. "Just leave it." Arthur plopped down on Leon's bed. Merlin continued his work. "You seen Leon?"

"Yeah, he's over in Room 6, playing cards with those guys. You know those two surfers guys, got in yesterday..."

"Oh right. Leon's made a lot of friends since we've been here," Arthur observed mildly.

"Yeah." Now Merlin turned his large eyes on Arthur, "So," he began in a suddenly serious voice, "you're Arthur Pendragon."

"Does everyone know?"

"Camelot Beach is a small town, and it's not everyday that someone in a fancy suit arrives in a chauffeur-driven Continental and visits Gaius's. Plus, I sort of overheard some of the conversation," Merlin added with a hint of embarrassment.

"I guess I'm not above _overhearing_ things myself."

"Did you tell Gwen? It'd be bad if she hears it on the town grapevine."

Arthur gave him a look that spoke of his exasperation, "Yeah, I told her," was all he said. Merlin picked up the broom and started sweeping. "You don't have to do that."

"You still paying?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll finish." Merlin picked up the thread of their conversation again, "So how'd she take it?"

"How do you think?" His sad-sack look did the talking for him.

"Yeah, well. I guess you know she blames Uther Pendragon for her dad's death. Well, um, indirectly, that is."

"Yeah Gaius told me. Thing is, I'm _not_ my father. And I have to go home soon, and I can't go knowing that she hates me."

"Gwen doesn't hate you. She's just not like that. Bet she's plenty mad though," Merlin wore a goofy grin on his face as he said this.

"You can say that again. But please don't," he quickly added. "How can I get her to forgive me if she won't even speak to me?"

"Yeah, I see your problem. But Gwen's the forgiving kind. Look at her and Lance. She should have just spit in his eye ... uh, so to speak. But..."

"Merlin, you're a genius!"

"I am? What did I say?"

"Where can I get a pen and some paper?"

"You're writing her a note?" Merlin was having a hard time understanding the way Arthur's mind worked.

"Not exactly..." Arthur told him as he headed out the door.

* * *

In an incredible coincidence of perfect timing, Merlin arrived just as Gwen finished setting every table. He was remarkably cagey and evasive about where he'd been. She decided it wasn't her place to extract an answer from him, and she knew that Gaius would be out of the kitchen momentarily to do exactly that.

At any rate, people were filtering in as they always did at this time of evening. It was time to go to work. Gwen noticed with both relief and disappointment (if both were possible at the same time) that Arthur wasn't among them. _Coward_, she thought. But then, she had been really mean—emphatically so. She had meant every word, but as usual, Gaius had a point. It can't have been easy being Uther Pendragon's son. She knew from the stories Morgana shared how difficult and demanding he could be. It wasn't that he didn't love them, it was that he expressed it through lofty and rigid expectations ... expectations about attention to protocol, about appearances, about the company they kept, about their future occupations ... about just about every aspect of their lives. Every summer he'd been happy to send them off to exclusive summer camps for the entire summer. It proved to be Morgana's only freedom and her saving grace. And now Arthur, freed from summer camp and from the tony resort life his father envisioned for him, had experienced a taste of that freedom. Gaius was right ... as usual.

She found it too easy to go about waiting tables while turning her relationship with Arthur Pendragon over and over in her mind. Burgers, fries and shakes for table two ... surely, she could tell if he'd been a total phony. Order up for table four ... and then there was Morgana. She should have said something. She'd lied too, but Gwen would never cut Morgana out of her life. Sure, she'd give her a piece of her mind, but afterwards they'd be friends again. So maybe ... another vanilla coke for table four ... maybe she could forgive him too ... one day.

The only thing that could break into her serious mulling was when nearly all the tables had been waited, the dinner rush slowing, Gaius taking the stage to introduce Nicky Nimueh. Gaius had said that Nicky had changed ... grown up, but he did not prepare Gwen for the changes she saw. "The lovely and talented Nicky Nimueh..." Gaius was saying. Nicky came out from the "stage door" (which is what Gaius called the hallway that led to the storeroom) and onto the stage. Nicky's look was transformed. Gone was the teased, sprayed-stiff hair, instead she wore it long and loose, parted in the middle, flowing over her shoulders, a fringe of bangs across her forehead. She wore little make-up, only some pink lipstick, pale pink at that. She wore a light blue fisherman's shirt over tight, narrow black slacks, and rough-hewn sandals, like the kind Gaius favored. The difference was remarkable. The band was gone too. In its place was an acoustic guitar. One thing hadn't changed. She strummed out the opening chords, and when she started to sing, she still had the voice of an angel.

* * *

Arthur lay low most of that evening. He had followed Gwen's suggestion, no matter that she made it in anger, and invited Leon and the guys from Room 6 to go to Crabby Annie's. They had eaten more crab than was humanly possible, along with bread, coleslaw, and pitchers of lemonade. Then they headed back to Gaius's, with Leon and the guys going back to Room 6 to resume their poker game ... and Arthur maintaining a low profile in the doorway that linked the Snack Shack to the boarding house. Keeping a low profile was made easy because the lights were down and a woman was performing on stage. She had long dark hair, and piercing blue eyes that matched her top. And boy could she ever sing.

All in all, the set-up was perfect. Now all he needed ... he waited and waited, until he could catch Merlin's eye. Merlin made his way to where Arthur was skulking, just outside the door.

"Yeah?" Merlin asked him.

"Shhhh, I need your help," Arthur whispered.

"Help with what?" Merlin responded in a stage whisper of his own.

"Between sets, I'd like to speak to the singer–out here, and without Guinevere knowing. Do you think you can arrange it?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. If only Arthur could communicate without making one feel like an incompetent idiot. "You know it's customary when asking for a favor to be polite," Merlin began.

Arthur cut him off, "Fine, fine. Merlin, pretty please with sugar on top, would you please..."

Now it was Merlin's turn to cut Arthur off, "Very funny. I was only saying. You get more flies with honey, you know."

"Why would I want flies?"

"Never mind. A better question is why do you want to speak to Nicky Nimueh?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Nicky Nimueh was good. But after the hoards and excitement of the Good Knights, the night seemed quiet by comparison. Having bused the empty tables, Gwen stood at the counter, waiting for Gaius to blend a couple of chocolate shakes for table five. She was surprised when Nicky approached her during the break between sets.

"Gwen, isn't it?"

"You remember me?" Gwen was surprised. It never occurred to her that she registered to likes of Nicky Nimueh. "You were really good. I like your new style..."

Just then, Merlin approached in such a rush, he practically ran into them. "Hi. I'm Merlin ... Gaius's nephew," he said expectantly.

"Nice to meet you Merlin," Nicky's speaking voice was nearly as lyrical as her singing voice.

"You have a wonderful voice. I wonder if I could ask you a couple of questions about your music."

"Of course, Merlin," came her musical response.

"Um, it's kind of private," Merlin demurred. "Would you mind?" he cast his eyes toward the doorway where Arthur was waiting just out of sight.

"Private?" Sometimes Gwen found Merlin to be unbelievably odd. But Nicky simply shrugged and followed Merlin toward the boarding house entrance of the Snack Shack, leaving a bewildered Gwen standing at the counter.

* * *

Although it meant fewer tips, and surfers weren't big tippers to begin with, Gwen was grateful for a slow night, slow for a weekend anyway. She could take her time, and get to all her tables, and not feel like she needed to be the world's fastest waitress to keep up. Most of all, it allowed her to hang out by the counter and really appreciate the music, only occasionally having to get another drink or order for one of her tables. And there was a lot to appreciate about Nicky. Gaius was right; she really had changed.

Once her second set began, most everyone settled in to listen to the music. Gwen found herself a place at the end of the counter, beside Merlin and Gaius, who were also enjoying the show. After she'd performed five songs, two original tunes and a few covers of well-known songs, Nicky removed her guitar, and spoke into the mic. "I'm, uh, pleased to introduce a surprise guest artist," she began. Her eyes went to the "stage door." She looked a little uncomfortable for the first time since she took the stage. "It's, um, well, his first time playing in front of an audience, so please be kind. Guys and gals, Art Pendragon."

If a buzz rippled through the room, Gwen didn't hear it, because her own gasp, followed by the pounding of her heart overshadowed everything else. _What on earth is he up to? _She wondered. _And why on earth should I be nervous for him?_

* * *

_No turning back now_, he thought when he heard Nicky introduce him. If he did, they'd both look ridiculous. Of course, he would look ridiculous either way.

He'd barely touched a guitar for months. He learned to play at summer camp, and played as often as he could. But his father thought the guitar a "wholly unsuitable" instrument for his son to play. Still, singing songs around the campfire, accompanied by guitar, were some of Arthur's fondest memories of summer camp. And though he wasn't very good by the standards of Nicky Nimueh, or any other competent musician, he loved it and found it relaxed him. So when he took the stage, it wasn't with expectations of dazzling anyone, but rather, of giving a truly heartfelt performance.

As he walked out, he channeled the confidence he felt on a surfboard, though he had no right to feel it on stage. It felt even more stark because the Snack Shack did not have the sophisticated lighting of a real venue. Instead, tonight it was lit with a single spot. Arthur stepped into the small circle of light, and took the guitar from Nicky's hands. For a moment, he allowed his eyes to scan the room until they found her. But in the end, he found it impossible to look directly at her. He chose a spot somewhere above her head, inhaled a deep breath, strummed out a few chords, and began...

_Even though I don't deserve it_

_I'm going to ask you all the same_

_To believe I never meant to hurt you_

_When I lied about my name_

_I know I don't deserve you_

_and that you have every right_

_to hate me and despise me_

_to see me in that light_

_But you must believe me when I say_

_That I really care for you_

_That I care so deeply _

_in that special way _

_Oh Guinevere,_

_I never meant to hurt you_

_Oh Guinevere_

_please forgive me_

_Oh Guinevere_

_Cuz I just can't bear to know_

_That I have to let you go_

_Oh Guinevere_

_My sweet Guinevere_

What followed was polite, bewildered applause. But Arthur cared little what anyone thought ... anyone who was not Guinevere. He made himself look to find out her reaction. Her hands covered her face, then she turned and fled through the swinging doors. It wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for. Arthur handed the guitar back to Nicky, and took off in pursuit of Guinevere.

* * *

He didn't have to look far. She was sitting on the steps where the boardwalk met the sand in front of the Board Shop. Her face buried in her hands. Arthur went to her at once, unsure of what to say or do, but certain that it was now or never. He knelt in the sand in front of her, took hold of her wrists and slowing drew her hands down away from her face. Her eyes were moist with tears. She heaved a small hiccup, as he lowered her hands away to reveal the rest of her face.

"I'm so sorry, Art," she could barely contain a convulsion of laughter. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh ... it's just ... well ... your song." She pressed her lips tight together. "I mean," she hiccupped laughter again, "every girl wants a song written about them, but _Oh Guinevere_ ... sung to the tune of ... what song was that?"

"Just something I learned at camp," he said defensively. "That's where I learned to play guitar and most of the songs I know are campfire songs." He was beginning to understand why she found it so funny. "I didn't know about your dad, I swear. I didn't mean to lie or deceive you. When I came here I had no idea I'd meet someone like you."

He sat down beside her. His feet were on the sand beside hers, his arm gently resting against hers. She didn't pull away or leave. "So does this mean that you forgive me?"

She had stopped laughing. Her face grew thoughtful and guarded, but her eyes were still rich with the warmth he felt between them. He sensed there was still hope. "I don't know Art, or should I say Arthur, but it's a start. I wish you'd told me the truth, or that we could begin again, as if we'd just met."

"So do I, but I have to go home tomorrow, and I don't want to go unless I know that you've forgiven me." His plea was implicit in his voice.

"Tomorrow?" It never occurred to her that they would have so little time to work things out, or even how much she wanted things to work out. But there it was—she cared.

"I have a command performance for my father first thing Monday morning." He said with gravity.

"My advice is," she began very seriously, "don't sing him an apology," she laughed and nudged his shoulder with hers. "So how should we spend your last day in Camelot Beach? I suppose, just this once, I could close the shop..."

"No way. Let's surf in the morning, have breakfast at Gaius's. You can open the shop and I'll bring you lunch, and then after you close the shop, we can get in a couple of runs before I have to leave."

"Sounds like the perfect day."

They sat for a long time without speaking, listening to the sound of the waves breaking against the shore. Arthur slipped his arm around Guinevere's shoulders and wondered whether it would be the last time he held her like this.

_AN: This is the penultimate chapter ... a bit more coming soon. As always, your feedback, be it positive, constructive or critical, is appreciated._


	6. The Perfect Wave

**Chapter 6 – The Perfect Wave**

Nearly three months later...

The morning sun streamed through the window. Gwen lay awake, propped on her pillows listening to the muffled but ever-present sound of the surf. She could see through the window that it was going to be another glorious day on the beach. The sky was a remarkable blue, and not a cloud in sight. Although she'd been awake for some time, her alarm clock sounded reminding her it was time to get up. She had one lesson to give before raising the roll-up door to the board shop, and she was anxious to get to it.

She rolled out of bed, hit the bathroom, and then traded her baby-doll nightgown for a swimsuit and a pair of shorts. She'd grab some breakfast after giving the lesson.

Between breakfast and opening the shop, Gwen went to the workshop and turned on the light. Her father's final board was still on the worktable. It was a masterpiece—a collaborative masterpiece—her father's craftsmanship, and her artistry. She'd spent countless evenings finishing the board. Late at night, after her shifts at the Snack Shack, she'd devoted herself to sanding, designing, and finally painting and sealing the board—the board that would be the last of its kind.

It was Friday of the last weekend of summer—always a scene in Camelot Beach, because it was also the weekend of the Camelot Beach Surf Pro-Am competition. Later that day, Camelot Beach would swell with surfers coming for the competition. She wouldn't be renting many boards that weekend, because the surfers who came for the competition would all have their own. But she knew she'd do a brisk business in chairs and umbrellas for the inevitable tourists who came to watch the biggest and best competition in the area, and the last event of the summer. She was looking forward to seeing her Uncle Duke, who'd be in town for the competition. But as much as she loved him and was looking forward to seeing him again, it was the thought of seeing Arthur Pendragon again that put an extra bounce in her step.

She would never have believed it possible, but she felt she knew him better today than the day he left. They had written to each other often over the course of the summer. Morgana had made up for lying to Gwen by serving as a useful go-between for her and Arthur. Morgana would address Gwen's letters to Arthur, to avoid questions by Uther or his secretary who sorted the household mail. If Uther or the secretary ever wondered about the suddenly prolific correspondence between the two almost-siblings, they never said.

Arthur's letters sketched a life very different from Gwen's. After his return from Camelot Beach, his father put him to work at the corporate headquarters, drafting reports full of statistics and numbers. It wasn't glamorous work, but he was kept busy and close under his father's watchful eye. He told her of the parties and social get-togethers his father arranged mostly to advance some business proposition or another. And after the "disaster" of Camelot Beach (as his father called it), he was only allowed to visit one other potential resort town–in Southern Hills, far away from the coast and from any surfing. His father was thinking of opening a ski resort in the winter, and wanted to see what attractions it would have during the summer months.

By comparison, Gwen felt her letters must seem dull and small. Her letters were full of news about life in Camelot Beach–what acts were playing at the Snack Shack, how Morgana was getting along (_really_ getting along), tales of Merlin's ever odd but endearing antics, but most of all about the surfing. She knew how much he must miss it, and she hoped that she made him feel a little closer to it, and not just miss it even more. And though she never told him the nature of her special project, she talked about getting back into the workshop and thinking about how to begin again—about how to leave her grief behind but still remember and honor her father. Whether Arthur found her letters dull and hopelessly small town or not, he kept writing, and so did she.

His last letter arrived a week earlier, and filled her with the kind of nervous excitement she hadn't felt in a very long time. His father was going to Albion Beach for a long, end-of-summer weekend, and Arthur had a plan to free himself from his father's constant supervision, and come to Camelot Beach. More than that, he was competing in the Pro Am. Gwen could hardly wait to see him again.

* * *

"Your dad's gonna kill you."

"He won't if he doesn't find out," Arthur replied reasonably.

"But what if he calls?"

"Leon, for the last time. He thinks I'm heading back to college a few days early. If he calls the frat house, our fraternity brothers will give him the run-around. By the third time he calls, I'll be there. Simple. What could go wrong?" Leon looked at him, but didn't answer. "So, you coming or not?"

"I didn't say I wasn't coming. Of course I am. A chance to go to the Camelot Beach Pro Am. Not just go, but ride in the Pro Am, meet the Duke of the Northern Coast ... Of course, I'm coming."

"You're planning to compete?" Arthur was incredulous. Leon was a good surfer, but the Pro Am was a big deal.

"I sent in my entry form."

"Well, I guess we'll be competing against each other."

"Yeah, but watch out, I'm bringing my secret weapon."

"What's that?"

"Betsy. I can't ride in a competition like this without my Betsy."

"Leon," Arthur began in a tone even he recognized as patronizing, almost Uther-like. "Gwen has lots of good boards. Besides, Betsy still won't fit in the T-bird."

"That's why I borrowed my cousin's woody. I'll take Betsy in that. We can caravan," was Leon's sunny reply.

It was another wrinkle in his plan to get to Camelot Beach as quickly as possible. "Fine," he said after consideration, "but I'm having the cook pack us some sandwiches, so we don't have to stop twenty times."

Leon's ear-to-ear grin was his answer. Before long, they were on the road–Arthur in the red T-bird, Leon right behind in the woody.

* * *

Each time she heard the door, Gwen looked up expectantly. She had all morning, though Art wasn't expected in the morning. And she had done so all afternoon, because he was expected sometime that afternoon, but still he had not shown up. _And when he did? What then_? She wondered. She had tried, without success to picture it in her mind. Would she go to him and throw her arms around him as if he were her boyfriend? Or play it cool like they were casual, yet special friends. She wasn't sure.

The only thing she was sure of at this point, was that her shift at the Snack Shack was starting soon. And with the town filling up with surfers and spectators alike, Gaius would need her ... and need her to be on time. Disappointed, she closed the shop, lowering the roll-up door, and headed upstairs to change for work.

* * *

They made only one pit stop on the first leg of their trip—gas, restroom, stretch their legs, back on the road. They were breezing. Arthur could picture himself arriving in time to surprise Guinevere with lunch from the Snack Shack. He would casually wander into the Board Shop with a to-go box in hand, and then join her for lunch at the counter of her shop.

They were breezing, until they hit the coast road that wound down from the hills, and into Camelot Beach. Then traffic slowed. And after an hour of slow traffic, Arthur adjusted the image in his head to showing up, not with lunch, but with an afternoon snack from Gaius's–maybe shakes and onion rings.

A short time later, traffic slowed practically to a halt. It was bumper to bumper on the only road into Camelot Beach. In his rearview mirror, Arthur could see Leon's head bobbing to the tunes on the radio. They crept and crawled at a snail's pace for miles. Frustrated but resigned, Arthur hoped he would arrive sometime before Gwen had to go to work that evening. He reached for the volume dial on the radio...

_Here are the Good Knights on the Mighty 610..._

_Going down to the beach,_

_Yeah, we're all going down to the beach,_

_So grab your board, bring your girl,_

_Cuz we're all going down,_

_To Camelot Beach…_

* * *

When Gwen arrived to work her shift at the Snack Shack, she was surprised to see Morgana sitting at the counter. She was obviously dressed for a date—in a simple green, spaghetti-strap dress, adorned by a single strand of white pearls, a white angora sweater draped over her shoulders. She had coiled her hair into a braided bun. _She looks perfect, as always_, Gwen thought. Gwen, too, had taken extra care about her appearance. She wore a cap sleeve tie-waist shirt in pink gingham, with a pair of navy blue Bermuda shorts. But since she'd be working, her hair was pulled back and she wore a comfy, but newish pair of Vans.

Gaius was behind the counter getting things set up for the inevitable dinner rush, looking a bit wilder than usual. It would be a busy night. "Thank goodness Gwen," Gaius was genuinely happy to see her. "I could really use a hand." In response to Gwen's bewildered look, he added, "Morgana's been keeping me company,"

Though it appeared to be lost on Morgana, Gwen recognized Gaius's sarcastic tone.

"I'm meeting my date here," Morgana began.

"Somebody new?" Gwen asked, but then without waiting for the response asked Gaius, "Where's Merlin?" Gwen launched into setting tables.

"No, the car jockey from Albion Beach. We made up. He brought me flowers and chocolates ... very sweet," was Morgana's contribution to the three-way conversation.

"He's upstairs. We have a full house this weekend. He's getting some of the boys settled in," Gaius responded as if Morgana hadn't spoken. "So what time is Arthur supposed to get here?"

Before Gwen could muster an answer, Morgana continued, "I still find it hard to believe that you think about him _that_ way."

Gwen thought she heard Gaius give a snort of derisive laughter as he headed through the double doors into the kitchen. "I thought he'd be here by now," Gwen tried not to let her disappointment creep into her voice.

"Speaking of that," Gaius returned through the double doors toting a tray of the syrups used to make fountain drinks, "what time is your date supposed to be here? You've been here nearly a half an hour now. Maybe you've been stood up. As long as you're still here, perhaps you could give Gwen a hand setting the tables."

"Looks complicated," Morgana returned mildly, but matching Gaius's tone. "At home the housekeeper does it, and at camp ... well, there's the kitchen staff. But now that the fountain is fully stocked, I'd love a vanilla coke."

Gaius turned away back to the fountain murmuring something under his breath that Gwen couldn't quite make out. Besides the first of the dinner customers were filtering in. It was time to go to work. She hoped Merlin would be in soon.

But Gwen's hopes were disappointed as the Snack Shack started to fill up and there was still no sign of Merlin. Gwen scrambled to cover her tables and Merlin's. Even Gaius had to come out from behind the counter to lend a hand, grumbling softly about killing Merlin if ever he showed up.

Gwen was so busy she didn't even notice when Morgana's date arrived and they left. She took orders from three more tables—two of her own and one that should have been Merlin's. She took the tickets over to the spindle, and clipped them up as she and Gaius exchanged exasperated looks.

And then, as though appearing out of nowhere, Merlin showed up, entering the Snack Shack through the side door, practically running.

"Gwen, I'm so sorry," he began even before she could say anything. "I had to..."

"Never mind. You're here now," she cut him off, and heard Gaius's loud "humph" in the background. "I haven't taken orders from tables six, seven or eight yet."

"Okay, but do you think you could pick up table ten, so I can catch up?"

Gaius humphed loudly again but said nothing. Gwen added an unmistakable sigh, but said with more patience than she felt, "Sure." Table ten had been empty only a minute ago, but now two surfers occupied it. The big plastic-coated menus obscured their faces. Gwen thought it was strange, because no one ever asked for a menu. Everyone seemed to know what the Snack Shack offered and knew what they wanted to order without benefit of a menu. But with all of the people in for the Pro Am, maybe it was to be expected that one or two out-of-towners would want one. All of this passed through her mind in the span of time it took to cross to the far end of the Snack Shack to table ten.

"May I help you?" Gwen asked as she approached the table and took her order pad and pen out of her apron pocket.

"Are the chili dogs good?" one of the surfers asked. Gwen thought they were incredibly rude for not putting down their menus to make eye contact with her. Moreover, he had a funny, squeaky voice. She looked more closely at them. She should have recognized them at once. A smile tugged at her lips.

"Yeah, they are..." she started. She heard a muffled giggle from behind the other menu. "... But I recommend the daily special—liver and onions."

It was too much for Leon, who started laughing behind his menu. Seeing that their cover was blown, Arthur set down his menu and smiled at Gwen. "Liver and onions?"

"I can ask Jonesy to make it specially for you," she said with a flirtatiousness that surprised even her, but seemed to please Arthur. He relaxed and laughed.

"I don't want to put him to any trouble. We'll just have our usual."

With that Leon put down his menu, "Hi Gwen." He had been slouching down in his chair as part of their ruse. Now he sat up to his full height, and flashed Gwen one of best, albeit goofy smiles.

"Hi Leon. Nice to see you again. So that'll be one cheeseburger, one double cheeseburger, two orders of fries, one vanilla shake, and one Neapolitan shake."

"I've really missed Gaius's Neapolitan shakes," Leon confirmed.

A short time later, Gwen returned with their order, even though table ten was technically Merlin's table. "So when did you get in?" she asked as she unloaded her tray onto their table.

"A little while ago. Merlin even managed to put us in Room 3. He had to convince two other guys to move down to Room 5 though."

"That explains it."

"What?" was Arthur's puzzled reply.

"Oh, nothing important. Well, I have to get back to work." She started to leave, then turned back, "See you later," she began.

"I thought," he said at the same time. "Sorry, you first."

"No, you go ahead."

"Geez," Leon said aloud as he rolled his eyes.

So Arthur began, "I thought we could go for a walk on the beach when your shift is over. If you're not too tired that is."

"I'd like that," she said simply and went back to work.

* * *

As the evening wore on, Leon reconnected with some surfer friends and left to play cards with them. Arthur abandoned table ten in favor of a spot at the counter, where he nursed a vanilla shake, followed by a coke. Gwen's tables had turned over twice that night, but now things were clearly winding down. There only a few stragglers hanging on as closing time neared.

Gwen had cleared and wiped off all of the vacant tables in her zone, and then joined Gaius behind the counter to clear up the fountain area. Glancing to where Arthur sat waiting, Gaius told her, "Why don't you take off now? Merlin can finish off your tables. It's the least he can do, considering," he added.

"I heard that," Merlin said from across the room.

"If you're sure..." she began, but she was already untying her apron as she said it.

"I am," Gaius laughed in response, wondering what she would have said if he had changed his mind.

It took only a minute for her to go to the locker room, leave her apron, and retrieve her sweater. Before she went to Arthur, she joined Gaius behind the counter, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him. He answered with a gentle pat on the back.

"Thanks Gaius."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I should let you leave early more often," he said in response.

"Thanks for everything," she whispered. Then to Arthur, "Ready to go?"

"Sure am," was his eager reply, as he hopped down from the stool.

"You kids have a crazy time," Gaius told them as they headed through the doors and out toward the beach.

They walked down the beach, leaving the boardwalk with its storefronts and people behind. They walked sometimes in silence, sometimes exchanging laughter and conversation. They followed up on stories, thoughts, and ideas from their letters. They talked about the Pro Am. Gwen was competing in the women's competition. She had won her bracket three years running.

In what seemed like no time, the boardwalk and the lights of the town were well behind them, and the old pier that marked the northern edge of Camelot Beach was in sight. As they approached the pier, Gwen took Arthur's hand, "Come with me. I want to show you something."

"Is it safe?" he asked looking at the battered pier. A chain across the access indicated that pier was no longer in use.

The tide was out, allowing access to pilings below the pier. "It's safe," Gwen told him. "It's been like this for years. I remember when I was a kid the pier went all the way out. People used to fish off the pier, but I just liked to go all the way to the end and stand there. I felt as though the sea surrounded me. No limits, just the ocean as far as I could see." Seeing the way his eyes were fixed on her, she added, "Silly, right?"

"Not at all. Sounds perfect. So what did you want to show me?"

She led him underneath the pier, "This used to be the big make-out spot on Camelot Beach. Under the pier at low tide. I had my first kiss here," she smiled at Arthur's slightly sour expression. "I was ten, Tommy Browning was nine. I didn't give him a choice. I'd seen the older kids here before, and I wanted to know what it was like."

He softened and felt silly about feeling jealous, "And what was it like?"

She laughed, "It was just a peck really. We were both out of breath from running to get here before the tide started coming in. Then we ran all the way back. We never talked about it again."

"So where is the new make-out spot?" he asked in a tone he hoped sounded casual.

"The lifeguard station."

"So no one comes here anymore?"

In answer she cast her eyes in one direction and then the other. "No one," she said absolutely.

Arthur took it as his cue to take her in his arms and kiss her. _A real kiss_ she thought. A proper kiss ... a lingering kiss ... the kind of kiss that made her insides flutter ... the kind of kiss that made ... her ankles wet? A finger of the sea flicked at their ankles, signaling low tide was nearing its end. She took his hand in hers and led him back onto the beach and toward town. They took the walk back slowly, barely skirting the incoming tide, from time to time letting it catch them. His arm felt right encircling her waist. And he didn't object or seem surprised when she reached around his back and slid her hand into the back pocket of his shorts.

Everything seemed comfortable and easy between them. It was only when they arrived at the Board Shop and the stairs to Gwen's apartment that awkwardness developed. "Well, we're here," she said. It sounded strained even to her ears.

"Yeah, we're here ... already. Big day tomorrow, um, the competition and all," Arthur too felt strangely tongue-tied. He didn't want the evening to end, but he knew it had to. If it was going to end there was only one way he wanted it to end. So he put his arms around her waist and drew her to him.

For her part, Gwen put her arms around Arthur's neck, closed her eyes, and met his lips for a parting kiss goodnight. Then she headed upstairs, leaving him at the foot of the stairs, following her with his eyes, the feel of her kiss still on his lips.

* * *

Arthur rose early the next day. Anticipation surged through him. Between the competition and the thought of seeing Guinevere, he felt excited. He thought it was exceptionally early to make his appearance in the Snack Shack for breakfast, but he couldn't wait. So he was surprised to see that in spite of the early hour, Guinevere was already there. She was settled in at a table with the man Arthur recognized at once as the Duke of the Northern Coast. He knew that Gwen did not get to see her godfather often, so he was reluctant to join them. He went instead to the counter and poured a cup of coffee from the now-familiar battered percolator. He took two doughnuts from a tray piled high with them. Neither Gaius nor Merlin was anywhere in sight.

As he turned away from the counter to scout a table, Gwen caught his eye and waved him over to join them. "I didn't want to intrude," he said as he approached their table.

"You're not," her voice was sunny, and she radiated her happiness. "I wanted to introduce you two. Uncle Duke this is my friend Art. Art–Uncle Duke."

"It's an honor to meet you, Mister..."

Uncle Duke waved him off, "Everyone calls me Duke. Just Duke."

"It's an honor to meet you Duke. I'm a big fan."

"Thanks. Gwennie tells me you surf pretty well yourself. You registered for the competition?"

"Yes sir, I am." Arthur could hardly believe he was having breakfast with the Duke of the Northern Coast on the morning of the Camelot Beach surf competition. Even though his hair was now more gray than black, Duke was still a powerfully build man. He was lean and muscular, in a faded Northern Coast Surf tee shirt that hugged his frame. His already olive skin was tanned, almost to the point of looking leathery. Above all it was clear that he had a lot of affection for Guinevere. He gave her plenty of unsolicited smiles and patted her hand in a fatherly way as he bragged about her surfing prowess.

It turned out that Uncle Duke was quite a storyteller. He regaled them with his surfing and travel tales all through breakfast before announcing that he was going to check out the waves. "So, I'll see you at the competition," Arthur offered tentatively.

"Yeah, you sure will. There's no legends bracket in the competition this year, so they asked me to be a judge," Duke replied with a wink and then strolled out toward the beach.

When he was gone, Arthur turned to Guinevere, "He's quite a guy."

"He really is ... on and off the waves. Art..."

"Guinevere..." They both spoke at once. "Sorry, you were saying..."

"No. You first," she said firmly.

"Okay. I'd like to borrow a board for the competition. Maybe the one I rented before ... if it's available."

"I can do better than that. Come with me."

* * *

Perhaps it was because it was his second time at Camelot Beach, or perhaps because he had spent the summer working for his dad, but Arthur saw things differently than before. He observed to Guinevere, "So your shop and apartment is the same layout as Gaius's only smaller." They were walking through the passageway that separated the two storefronts.

"Yes. Gaius bought the two businesses next to the original Snack Shack and expanded. Dad always said that Gaius was clever like that, but I think it's more than that."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Well, Gaius is clever and had the means, but most of all he had a vision. He knew what he wanted and worked to make it happen. Don't get me wrong," she went on, "I loved my dad, and always thought the world of him, but he always talked about expanding the business, he just didn't have a vision for what it could be."

By now they had reached the street side of the Snack Shack and the Board Shop. Gwen pointed to the building on the far side of the Board Shop, "See that shop?" The building was the mirror image of the Board Shop; a "Lease/Option" sign hung in the window.

"What about it?" he wasn't following her at all at the moment.

"It's been that way for months now. I was thinking it would be perfect for expanding the Board Shop."

"Really? Why?"

"I was thinking the storefront would be perfect for a new workshop. We, well just me at the moment, make custom boards in one of the most authentic surf spots ... well, anywhere. People could see the boards being made and then rent or buy one in the shop."

He was quiet for a few moments while he thought about her idea. He was impressed. "That's a great idea."

"That's probably all it will ever be, if Camelot Beach becomes the next Pendragon resort." Almost as soon as it passed her lips, she felt sorry she'd said it. "I'm sorry Arthur. I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just …"

"You don't have to explain, really. Actually, since I was last here, I've been thinking a lot about Camelot Beach," he paused and grew quite serious. "I think there's a place for resorts like Albion Beach, but I think there can be different kinds of resort towns too … different kinds of development. Instead of remaking Camelot Beach to be just like Albion Beach, we could help the people who live and work here realize their own ideas and dreams." Now he was speaking excitedly. "We don't have to take over and change everything. We could help rebuild the boardwalk and that old pier, invest in the existing shops and businesses … or help a young shopkeeper expand her board shop."

"I guess you _do_ understand what I mean about having a vision." Gwen felt proud of the young man's growth.

"It won't mean a thing if I can't get my father to share it."

"Your time will come, Arthur. And when it does, I know you'll do great things."

* * *

They entered the Board Shop's workshop through the street-side door. When Gwen turned on the light, Arthur could see that she'd rearranged things since he was last there. Her father's workbench was now at the far end of the small space; the board was still on it. She'd finished it. The board was true crimson. Painted down the center of the board was a gold sword. The sword itself was painted with an elaborate design, like filigree metal etching, but painted on. And on each fin she'd painted an elaborate winged dragon, again in gold, a lick of flame emanated from its mouth.

"Wow," was all he could think to say as he approached it. Then added awkwardly, "You finished it."

"Do you like it?" She stood watching as he examined the board.

"Yeah, of course. What's not to like? It's a work of art," he stammered.

"I'm glad you like it, because it's yours," she tried to keep her voice light in spite of the emotion she felt now that the time came to part with the board.

"You mean I can ride it in the competition?"

"Yes, but what I _really_ meant is it's yours. I'd like you to have it." It was completely spontaneous, but it just seemed right somehow.

"Guinevere," his voice was emphatic, "I can't! It's your father's last..."

"I know," she interrupted softly, but equally emphatic.

"Maybe you should keep it or give it to your Uncle Duke."

"Uncle Duke has plenty of dad's boards, and there's only one he ever rides in competition. Besides, you were on my mind when I designed it."

"It's a very special gift, and I have nothing to give you in return."

She noticed the way he admired the board; his eyes never left it. "I know," she said simply.

Now he turned and faced her. She was smiling. She was lovely ... a work of art like the board. "It's still early. Want to get in a couple of runs before the competition."

"Meet you on the beach in ten," she replied.

He picked up the board and followed her out.

* * *

Arthur stood on the boardwalk outside of Gwen's shop, ready to watch her bracket of the competition. He'd come in from taking a few practice runs with Gwen. The surf was great—perfect for the competition. And the board she'd given him was the best. It rested beside him, leaning regally against the railing of the boardwalk—gleaming brightly in the midday sun.

Now practice runs were over, and the judges were assembled. He saw Gwen and Morgana exchange hugs and last minute wishes of luck before paddling out. Even at this distance, he recognized Morgana's look of determination. More than a facial expression, it was the way she set her shoulders and held her head. He'd seen it often enough, especially when she went toe-to-toe with Uther. But he'd seen it other times too, like when she learned to drive, or the time Uther had taken them sailing. It was clear that Morgana wanted to win.

In contrast, Gwen wore the same easy grace she always did. She seemed to Arthur as though she was born to ride the waves. She made it look effortless. She didn't need a look of determination to ready her for the competition. Instead, she looked like it was just another day on the beach.

"Nervous?"

Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin. "Merlin! How do you do that?"

"Do what?" was Merlin's puzzled response.

"Appear out of nowhere, like that."

"I didn't appear out of nowhere. You were so busy ogling Gwen, you didn't notice me walk up."

"I wasn't _ogling_ Gwen." Arthur was offended by the very notion of someone—anyone—ogling his Guinevere. "And no, I'm not nervous. I wouldn't have entered if I didn't feel confident I could win."

"You're confident enough for two," Merlin said under his breath, thinking the sound of the waves and of people strolling down the boardwalk would cover his words.

"What?"

"What? I didn't say anything." Merlin feigned innocence.

Without thinking, Arthur went on, "I wish I could feel that same confidence with Guinevere."

"With Gwen?" It was half question, half statement. Merlin stood assessing Arthur anew.

"Yes, with Gwen. I love her," Arthur blurted out. "My father will flip when he finds out I want to marry the girl who runs the local surf shop in Camelot Beach instead of a debutante whose father owns a construction or food services company, or some other business that's useful to Pendragon Resorts."

"Wow, you want to _marry_ Gwen," Merlin sounded incredulous, and not because he didn't think Gwen could inspire such love, but because she'd inspired it in Arthur Pendragon … rich, entitled Arthur Pendragon.

"Yes, someday. I know. I _know_. I know what people will say—that we're so different, and that we barely know one another," Arthur continued. "There are a dozen obstacles in our way … not the least of which is my father. But I _know_ she's the one. I feel it every time I'm with her."

"You want to marry Gwen," Merlin repeated almost to himself this time.

An awkward silence ensued, during which each young man stared out toward the competition on the waves. Once again Arthur found himself opening up to one of the denizens of Camelot Beach—first it was Gaius, now Merlin. He wondered what it was about this place that affected him this way.

At length, Merlin said, "I see she loaded you _the_ board."

"She _gave_ it to me," Arthur returned.

"Wow, she really does like you," Merlin replied, in what Arthur hoped was an understatement.

"And I'd like to show her how I feel about her too."

"You're not going to give her a ring are you? Cuz I don't think she's ready for that."

"No, I have something else in mind." Then Arthur added, "but there is one thing that I could use your help with."

* * *

There was a certain kind of sameness about the Camelot Beach Surf competition each year. But this year there were differences too. Gwen was making a mental list as she stood watching the competition. In the 'same' column, the town flooded with tourists and surfers alike. Gwen winning the competition in her bracket also went in the same column; she had the trophy and meager prize money check to prove it. Beating Morgana to take the prize went in the different column. It was Morgana's first competition, and she'd ridden well. But it was proof-positive, that the best surfers rode the waves at Camelot Beach. Morgana had spent so much time that summer with her guy up at Albion Beach that she didn't have a feel for the waves down at Camelot Beach. Gwen, who always liked to win, still felt bad beating her friend. But the feeling lasted only a moment. After all, it didn't mean nearly as much to Morgana as it did to Gwen, and the prize money, though meager, would help a lot.

Also different was that Arthur Pendragon was competing. Gwen watched him preparing to paddle out now. He sought her out in the crowd of spectators, and waved to her. Then he took the crimson board and waded out into the surf. Leon was competing in this bracket too.

Gwen never felt nervous about competing, but watching Arthur compete was an entirely different matter. After her competition, she'd taken the trophy back to the shop, showered and changed, and tried to decide whether or not to watch Arthur's bracket. She'd gone into the board shop and puttered around, found she couldn't concentrate, decided it was better to know. So she went out onto the boardwalk in from of her shop to watch.

She looked across the way and saw Gaius watching from the boardwalk in front of the Snack Shack. Beside him was a man, casually, yet impeccably dressed, stern, and proud. It could only be Uther Pendragon. Gwen returned her attention to the beach just in time to see Arthur ride a wave in what was sure to be a winning run. She glanced over at Gaius and saw him shake Uther Pendragon's hand and bid him farewell. He turned and left before the judges could render their decision and his son could claim the trophy.

Some girls dreamed of being the homecoming queen or being voted the prom queen with their date as prom king. Such dreams seemed far from Guinevere's reality. But for a moment, when she saw Arthur raise his trophy for conquering the waves, and seek her out with his eyes, she felt as though they were the king and queen of Camelot Beach, if only for a day.

* * *

The following morning, Gwen had barely entered the shop, when she heard banging on the roll-up door. "All right, just a minute," she shouted to be heard through the closed door. The banging kept up. "Okay," she shouted, as she pulled the chain to raise the door, revealing a chastened Merlin on the other side.

"Sorry Gwen. I wasn't sure if you heard me." He looked at her with huge, expectant eyes. He was wearing what Gwen thought of as typical Merlin attire–striped tee shirt, baggy, ill-fitting shorts, and brand new Vans, which Gwen convinced him to buy. To her mind, he had a healthy glow courtesy of a summer on Camelot Beach. In one hand, he had a brown paper bag, in the other, his transistor radio.

Gwen smiled and looked from Merlin's face to the brown paper bag, flecked with grease, in his hand. "So, what's in the bag?"

"Oh yeah," he said as if he'd just remembered he was holding it, "Gaius sent these for you." He handed her the bag. The doughnuts were still warm.

"A new tradition … end of summer doughnuts," she murmured, taking the bag and pulling up two stools to the counter.

Merlin placed the transistor radio on the counter and switched it on. Lately, it seemed to Gwen, Merlin always had the little radio with him. He was really starting to fit in at Camelot Beach, or at least to make his own place in it. Definitely not a surfer, but he belonged.

_... This is the mighty 610, coming at you from Camelot Beach ... _

The radio spewed a series of ads, as they sat eating doughnuts, and chatting about the weekend that was. Gwen tried to focus on recapping the surfing competition, but her hand went reflexively to the collar of her shirt and fingered the Kappa Nu Tau pin. Merlin knew her well. "What's that? Is it new?"

Gwen's nose and cheeks colored. "It's Arthur's. I guess he isn't one of those summer boys after all. He gave his pin last night. Well, yesterday after the competition … just as the sun was setting…"

Merlin looked at his watch for the third time since he'd sat down. "Merlin? Am I keeping you from something?"

"What? No." he replied, characteristically oblivious.

"You keep looking at your watch."

"Do I?"

"Yes, do you," was her now-exasperated reply.

"Well," he hopped down from his stool and stood thinking for a long moment, "It's just ... that Gaius probably needs me back at the Snack Shack ... see ya," he said as though finally arriving at a long sought excuse to leave. In a second, he was heading out the door, leaving a bewildered Gwen in his wake.

_Perhaps I made him feel uncomfortable talking about Arthur like that. Or maybe he thought I was going to go into detail. _She adored him, but sometimes she still found him to be really odd. Just then she noticed that he'd left his radio. "Merlin," she called but he was gone. Oh well, he'd be back.

Although the doughnuts helped, she went about setting up for the day with the weight of melancholia on her shoulders. The last day of summer, the competition over, Camelot Beach emptying out again ... and of course, she had no idea when she'd see Arthur again. It was true that they had spent as much time as they could together over the course of the weekend. When it was time for him to return to his life in Castle Heights, they had parted with a passionate kiss and a lingering hug—an unspoken pledge between them.

_... So don't forget, that's Tim's Hot Rods and Paint Shop on Main Street in Camelot Beach..._

Still, she was determined to look forward. Tuesday was the start of the new semester, and Merlin would be joining her at CB Jr. Another semester of Statistics, ugh, and she would probably have to wait in line to get into the Marketing class ... but it would be worth it, because maybe one day they'd be advertising the Board Shop on the radio...

_... And it's dedication time here on the Mighty 610 ... this one goes out to Guinevere from Art ... lucky lady, it's the brand new single from Camelot Beach's own The Good Knights, joined by the lovely Nicky Nimeuh, singing The Perfect Wave ... coming at you Guinevere on the Mighty 610..._

Gwen dropped the rent book on the counter and rushed to the radio. Had she really heard that? Then the song played, and she knew she was not mistaken ...

_My girl is like the perfect wave_

_taking me out to sea_

_She's like the perfect wave_

_made me the guy I want to be_

_My girl is like the perfect wave_

_Fluid like the ocean blue_

_She's like the perfect wave_

_knows how to see inside of you_

_Yes she washes over me_

_and she takes me out to sea_

_but she brings back to the shore_

_and no guy could ask for more_

_Cuz she's like the perfect wave_

_Yes, my love is like the perfect wave_

_My guy is like the perfect wave_

_washing over me_

_He's like the perfect wave_

_made me the girl you see_

_My guy is like the perfect wave_

_Strong as he can be_

_Yeah, he's like the perfect wave_

_Gentle when he needs to be_

_Yes, he takes me out to sea_

_brings me right back to me_

_but he knows what strength is for_

_and no girl could ask for more_

_Cuz he's like the perfect wave_

_Yes, my love is like the perfect wave_

~the end~

**_AN: Thanks for reading!_**


End file.
